The Wrong Time
by Dame March Dolcetto
Summary: (spoilers for the manga) They might've found a different way to escape from Purgatory but they land at the wrong place and the wrong time—in the middle of the very battlefield in which he died, just before he did. In which two Sins save themselves and change a past's future.
1. The Escape

**The Wrong Time**

* * *

 _A looming figure cloaked head to toe in rags_

 _"... if it's a way out of Purgatory you want, I should be able to assist you..."_

 _A feminine voice._

 _"U-um... b-but just so we're clear... my aim is really..."_

 _A long staff carved from ancient, bleached bone_

 _"Well, if you're sure you're willing to take the risk then..."_

 _A hand reaches out. The staff burns with white fire_

 _._

 ** _ị̧̡̝̼̘̰̠̋̄̽̽̈͜ w̡̨̧̳̘̥͍̠͋̇̊̅̀̂̑i̴̟͙̰̰̭͎̔͗́̍̈̾͝l̼͚̱͕̉͒͗̊͟͟͞l̢̥͇̘̺̮̰̹̝̦͑͊̌̕͝ o̡̡̬̭͔̠̳͑͊̆̀̒͢͠͡p̶͇̹͓͚̀̇̈̀͌̽͋͋͜͡ͅͅe̷͖̤̰̣̠̖̻̿̐̀́̀͋̎̚n̸͎͔̘̥̟͓͛̒͆͌͗́͐̚͠ a̤͇͔͍̺͇̲̿̍̿̎̂͟ d̳̫͉̻̠̓̀͊͊͛͟͝͡o̮͍̜̼̮̜̱͒̊̇̅́̑̿̏͜͢͞ͅò͉̲̠͇̤̗͖̲͓͌̅̉̇̌͝͞r̬͚͉̝̜̂̄̀͒̋ f̴͙̗͉̤͙̘͖̻̔̋̅͐̓̓̚͢͞o̸̢̨̠̼̫͚̘̹̝͗́̏͐̐͘͜r̸͕̠̭̪̘͈̻̍̋͌͊̓̄̑̚ y̴̻͉̪̰̯͐̅͊̒͝o̡̦̻̺̯͙͒̍̂́̏̄̌̅͠u̢̨̡̙͈̯̬̮̘͒͐̑̐͂̅͢_**

 _._

 _._

* * *

As it turned out, the door out of Purgatory wasn't a door. It was a swirling gateway of rainbow colors that pulled them in the minute it was called into existence, a portal decidedly different from the blank voids of what he remembers from the times he's died before. But then, he wasn't going out the same way as he used to before. This time, he wasn't being thrown out alone by an uncaring Father who'd finally tired of toying with him (not that he was fully _him_ , technically speaking). This time, he and Ban were escaping through a way entirely separate from his father, his father none the wiser, and it felt _good_.

Okay, the _defiance_ felt good. Actually going through the portal was disconcerting. A blinding, dizzying array of colors was searing itself into his eyes, and the pressure surrounding them as they passed through the portal was so intense, it felt like it was trying to compress him into his skin. It was painful and it was all-consuming, but it wasn't Purgatory, and it was better than anything Purgatory itself had to offer.

When they are ejected out into the open air, the very fall felt like freedom.

The first thing he notices before the explosion that welcomed their landing was the air. Specifically, how it was not simultaneously freezing cold and burning hot, and how its smell, while heavy with smoke and fire and blood, did not also reek like rotting carcasses on beds of excrement borne of his own attempts at cooking.

The magic that had coated them since they'd entered the portal roiled and twisted against their skin.

Then they land

And it's with an explosion.

The patina of magic surrounding them popped like a soap bubble the moment their feet touch the ground, and the force of it explodes outward in a ringing blast, sending the earth flying around them in a rippling wave of dirt and debris. He lands on his hands and knees. The first thing that fully registers to his mind is the feel of cool, natural soil under his palms.

The place they were in, it was a wasteland of rocks and dirt, of ashes and smoke, and he swore, by Fate or whoever it was pulling the strings, that it might have just been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It wasn't the endless, paradoxical hellscape that had been his prison for all those hundreds of years. They were in Britannia.

They were home.

"Ban, we made it! We're out!" And he could've _wept_ from that knowledge alone. After all those years, all those _centuries..._ he was _free. They_ were free.

Someday, some distant day, he was going find a way to really, truly, genuinely thank Ban enough for pulling him out of Purgatory. As it was, for now, he was just going to settle for getting his friend and hugging him 'til his ribs shattered. Like all best friends did.

Then the smoke clears and he sees he _exactly_ where he was, and exactly _what_ was surrounding them. Which included...

His own body lying by his feet, knocked to one side, beat to absolute _crap,_ and already down by six hearts, one arm, and (mercifully enough) _consciousness._

Eight of the Ten Commandments standing whole and relatively healthy, of whom most looked equal parts furious and bewildered, staring at the two of them with weapons and magic held at the ready, with Estarossa, in particular, looking especially dumbfounded as he stood nearby, a blade of darkness readied over his hand.

 _Ban_ , as in, not the Ban who came to rescue him from Purgatory but Ban from when he tried to save him from Estarossa, staring at him, wide-eyed, visible tear tracks still on his face, body still under the influence of _Hunter Fest,_ and soundlessly mouthing "what the actual fuck" over and over again.

After a few moments of stunned silence, he slowly got onto his feet, drew his sword, and... scratched the back of his head with it.

"Well, well, weeeell. Now, this is awkward."

Ban, _his_ Ban this time, pops up from behind him, and casually loops an arm around his shoulders.

"Thaaat's an understatement if I ever heard one," he drawled, tone seemingly laidback. One hand was kept hidden behind his back. If someone were looking, one might have noticed that the unconscious, impaled Meliodas was now moving slowly in the direction of the hand behind his back. "We've sure come at a wrong time, now, haven't we~?"

Then, of course, pandemonium.

Meliodas — as in, himself, the body's complete _soul_ —suddenly finds himself lifted bodily onto Ban's shoulder as the immortal leapt, mere moments before Estarossa's foot slams into where he'd just been standing. Even from the air, he can still see the expression on his brother's (?) face, confusion and... of all things, _glee._

"Now, isn't this _interesting,"_ Estarossa declares, smiling like the devil made flesh. Which, to be fair, he sort of was. "Another one of your schemes, dear brother of mine?"

Ban was having _none_ of it.

 _"Fox Hunt!"_

... but it's not at his brother that the attack was aimed. Instead, it was _himself_ , the impaled body still unconscious from his earlier struggles and the explosion of their arrival. It went flying straight into Ban's grasp, who does his best to catch him in a way that doesn't overly jostle the blades already piercing his hearts, bracing him one-handed against his chest as he landed. "I've gotcha," he whispers, only just barely loud enough for the emotions to hear despite the fact that he was literally on his back. Then, in a yell that hurt his eardrums and cut clear through the demands of the Commandments surrounding them: _"Crazy Hunt!"_

The attack slams into all of the Commandments present with enough force to pulverize the very ground beneath them. More than one heart gets ripped out into the open air in its wake but Ban wasn't paying them any heed. He was holding both the unconscious body and the conscious emotions-given-form in his arms, and was focused on nothing but staying alive and finding a way out.

Closing his eyes, trusting in the rest of senses he'd honed in Purgatory, he weaves past twelve of Derieri's wild punches, slides under Fraudrin's _Milky Way Breaker Blade_ , and leaps off of _Gigant Pick_ just as Drole summoned it, using its force to launch himself high into the air. If more than one attack comes close to grazing his skin, he pays it no heed, but not once does he let a single attack graze either of his friend, either the body or the soul. At the peak of his jump, his eyes snap open and he snarls:

 _"Sensory Hunt! Zero Sign!"_

Power exploded outward from Ban's body in a pulse of cold. Neither of the Meliodas were targeted and so, the emotions didn't feel its effects but he can tell it's effective just from the shouts of those surrounding them. They land not long after but none of the Commandments are able to notice in their sense-deprived states.

"Hold on, tight, Captain," Ban called out as he adjusted his grip, cradling the injured body more gingerly against him while also tightening his hold around the emotions' waist. His eyes were sharp and gleaming red. "We're gonna _run_."

 _"Hunter Fest!"_

Many of the Commandments were shouting again at the sudden loss of strength but while Ban found that _incredibly_ satisfying, it wasn't the main point. His body now burning hot with stolen power, he takes a step back, adjusts his hold on both the emotions and the body, then launches off with all the strength in his newly-empowered muscles, crossing hundreds of feet in the initial leap alone, taking off running in a mile-eating lope that literally left the Commandments in the dust.

But even deprived of their five senses, the Commandments weren't exactly taking things lying down. Even as Ban really started to pick up the pace, Meliodas can see the Commandments as they started firing off attacks at close to random, seemingly without care for their own safety, from Estarossa wildly shooting _Killing Saucers_ in every direction, Gloxinia unleashing _Death Thorn_ in literally their exact opposite direction, to even Grayroad unwittingly casting _Binding Resentment Chains_ at Derieri— a sight which suddenly made him _very_ relieved that they're now far out of Grayroad's range.

Then, from his position over Ban's shoulder, he could just see Monspiet, no more than a speck of white in his vision, as he fired what at first looked like flickers of dark flames but then rapidly transformed into a blistering wave of demonic power in the form of _Hellfire Phoenix._ He swore he could almost feel its heat against his face as it homed in on them with unerring accuracy and increasing speed, the bird-shaped blaze burning through everything in its path with hellfire stronger than even the flame he'd once used to leave Ban his scar.

... but this, at least, he could still manage against, even now, from his awkward position on Ban's shoulder. " _Full Counter!"_

The reflected attack surges back and burns through the ranks of the Commandments almost in the blink of an eye, exploding in what was practically a tidal wave of black fire. Those not blasted back scream as they are engulfed in the flames. If he squinted, he could even see the hearts Ban had ripped out in his earlier attack as they were obliterated in the blast. All of the Commandments had been set ablaze.

" _Nice one, Captain!"_ Ban yells. They had reached the labyrinth now, Ban running atop its walls without ever once looking down, never once missing a step all the same.

He manages a grin, even knowing he wouldn't be able to see it. "You're not doing so bad yourself," he says. "Where are we going to go?"

"Who cares?!" Ban grunts as he leaped high over a gigantic gap, what had been an arena within the labyrinth. " _Anywhere_ but here!"

"Not a bad plan..." he says in half a laugh, adrenaline still ringing in his ears. The Commandments were now only barely visible in the distance, no more than flecks in his vision. They'd travelled miles in minutes and the Commandments were still scattered, burning, confused, and stripped of their five senses.

 _We're going to make it,_ he thinks, and the thought brings more than a little relief. There was still their returning to their actual time to think about (as well as his whole body — _Meliodas_ — going around, being stupid without a heart in their future) but one thing at a time. One thing at a time...

All things considered, it couldn't last. The moment Zeldris realized he could use the powers he was bestowed with to cancel the effects of Ban's powers, it would only be a matter of time until they caught up— as fast as Ban was, and he was even faster than Meliodas at full power if they were talking purely of foot-speed, all of the Commandments could _fly._ So until then, it was best to get the biggest headstart they could. To where? To...

The Boar Hat. He could now vaguely remember this day, all those years ago. They'd parked the Boar Hat not far from the outside of the labyrinth before the 'festival' began. Given all the spells Merlin had cast into its walls, it would be protected from enemy detection and was quite possibly the best place they could go, at least for the time being.

He's just about to tell him to find the Boat Hat when he remembers—

"Ban," he says urgently into his ear. " _You're_ here, too!"

He doesn't need any further explanation. "I'm _immortal_ ," he retorts. He wasn't even looking back, he was looking only forward. They were almost out of the bounds of the labyrinth. "I'll be fine!"

" _You_ didn't leave _me_ in there," he snaps, and the actual anger in his voice startles Ban, though not enough to actually slow him down. " _I'm_ not leaving _you!_ "

"Tch!"

He skids to a forcible stop, feet breaking through stone as he came to a halt, eyes wild as he surveyed the Commandments far off into the distance on the battleground they'd left behind. In the end, it is only because of _Sensory Hunt_ magnifying his senses that he manages to spot him. "Move," he says curtly, and the emotions oblige, shifting positions so that he was seated on Ban's shoulders, leaving the immortal with one free arm. Ban raised it, all of his muscles held tensed. " _Fox Hunt!"_

Ban, the _other_ Ban, goes flying over to them as if jerked over by a crook, pulled over that extreme distance in the span of a few seconds and landing before them on hands and knees. He'd only barely been within range and, even then, only because of the boost from _Hunter Fest_. His eyes are wide and he looked more than a little worse from wear, both from having been forcibly pulled over from that great distance and from _literally_ _everything_ that had just happened in the past couple of hours or so, even from before taking their arrival into account.

"Captai— what the _fuck_ is going on?!" he demands as he stood, looking from him, to _himself,_ then to the brutalized body in his counterpart's arms, then back again. "Who the hell are— "

"There's no time to explain," Ban cuts in impatiently. "We've got to go."

"Ban, it's _me."_ The younger Ban's gaze whipped over to him, Meliodas' emotions' given form, an odd mix of disbelief, mistrust, and recognition in his eyes. It wasn't exactly comfortable, trying to meet his gaze when he was so high over him (for once), but he does it anyway. _"T_ _rust_ me," he tells him, trying to inject some level of authoritativeness into his voice but only injecting desperation instead. To his own ears, he sounds like he's _pleading_. "We need to _go_."

"It's you," he echoes, still staring at him, suspicion wavering from his eyes. "You're the ..? _"_

"Of course, it's me," he says impatiently. "You _saved_ me."

An explosion rang out from far behind them—it was the Ten Commandments, all of them spreading out on dark wings. Even from this distance, he thinks he can sense the tell-tale aura of _God,_ Zeldris' power as the Demon King's representative, flickering around him as he alone stood at the center. He must have cancelled the effects of _Sensory Hunt._

Both Bans' bodies returned to their regular sizes. Both of their _Hunter Fests_ had also just been cancelled. They had to go, now. The suspicion finally fully faded from the past Ban's eyes and he finally nods.

... but instead of coming with them, he turns to face the Commandments now flying in their direction.

 _"Go!"_ he roars, hands clenched into fists. "I'll hold them off for as long as I can! And, _you_ — _"_ This time, he looked to the Ban carrying them, eyes still suspicious but begrudgingly trusting. "Whoever the _fuck_ you are, _keep those two safe!"_

"You don't need to tell me twice," he snaps back. Despite this, he was grinning, and there was something like approval clear in his eyes. "Fight your damnedest, ya hear me?!"

"Ban..." But even he knew how much better their chances would be if someone stayed and held them off. And Ban was, after all, immortal. He reached over to his still-unconscious counterpart and pried Lostvayne out of his grip. "Take this," he says, holding out his sacred treasure hilt-first. "You better return it!"

It wasn't Courechouse and wasn't exactly ideal for him, but it was still a sacred treasure and was _far_ better than nothing. Ban grins fiercely. "I gotcha," he drawls.

Two of the Commandments were now flying in their direction. Even with _Zero Sign_ still active on Ban and both Meliodas, it was not the case for the Ban of this time. They could see him. And _only_ him.

He tenses himself for battle as he started the motions for another, more properly-executed _Hunter Fest,_ Lostvayne held at the ready in his hand.

"Now. _Run for it!_ "

They escape.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Liones, an eclectic group was sitting around an active spell orb, its contents showing a scene from far, far away. The rooftop was still and silent.

Then, eventually:

"What the heck just happened?"

* * *

 **This. This just happened.**

 **This plot bunny's been bothering me for a while so I wrote it as stress relief. This was a lot of fun to write! Funky future stuff to come - and some explanations on things. Just so we're clear, I do remember what the effects of the Commandments are and I'll be explaining that. Eventually. I have school.**

 **Anyway, reviews are always appreciated and have a nice day.**

 **(EDIT: Fixed some grammatical issues)**


	2. The Immediate Aftermath

**Thanks for waiting. Enjoy!**

* * *

"No, really— _what the hell just happened?!_ " Gilthunder demanded, looking almost hysterical as he looked wildly from person to person, with no one quite able to meet his gaze as they, in turn, continued to stare at the still-active spell orb, expressions blank as they tried to process what just had and was still happening.

"Secondary copies of the Captain and Ban fell from the sky," Gowther narrates. He, alone, looked mostly unshaken by the events that they'd just seen. "Taking the injured Captain and absconding, leaving the Ban originally present to fight against the Commandments in their stead. That was what happened. In summary."

"Th-that's not what he meant, Gowther," King says numbly. He, too, looked pale and shaken, as he had been since Meliodas had finally become overwhelmed in the fight. After his initial, knee-jerk reaction to the... _visitors_ arriving, he'd become silent in the aftermath of what they'd seen, from the second Ban's vicious fighting retreat away from the Commandments with both Meliodas in tow, to the first Ban, the Ban they knew had come with them, readying himself to stand for battle. "W-we all saw that but..."

Escanor nearly stumbles on his own feet in his haste to follow through but he manages, nervously wringing his hands as he did. "W-we all saw what happened! The Captain getting—" Here, he turns very pale, looking almost sick " —Getting defeated, th-that big hole in the sky, that other B-Ban escaping... but how in the world did any of that _happen_?"

Gowther tilts his head to one side in what would've been an inquisitive gesture, were it not for the ever-present neutral look on his face. "The Captain was defeated because he was overwhelmed in an eight-on-one battle. That other Ban managed to escape by taking full advantage of the confusion brought about by his appearance in conjunction with his own unexpected abilities, with some help from the other Captain's 'Full Counter'," he answers simply. "Although, I have no knowledge of how that gate itself came to existence. The magic that summoned it was unknown to me. However, if it would help, I can Playback the scene if you would like."

"What's the big deal? They're definitely on our side, aren't they?" Hawk asks. "They totally saved Meliodas out there! Why look a gift horse in the mouth?"

" _Because it shouldn't have ever existed!_ "

The outburst was enough to make him, and almost everyone around him, flinch, moreso given that it had come from someone who'd remained virtually mute until just now.

It was Gilfrost, his eyes wide, his face pale, and his hands shaking around his staff. All of them had been affected by what they'd seen to some extent or the other but he didn't look sickened, like most of the Sins and their allies did, nor did he look resigned like some of the other festival survivors did. He looked honestly _terrified._ "You don't understand! That magic that brought them here, that _gate in the sky_ —I thought that demon's magic was powerful but _that,_ the magic that brought them here... it's magic that shouldn't even _exist_ in this world. It's magic more powerful than _anything_ I've ever seen before! And I've trained under the greatest mages in all of Britannia!"

"H-hey, calm down!" Howzer, who'd previously been trying to calm Gilthunder, was staring at him with wide eyes. "Even if it was powerful magic, all it did was open a door! What's the big deal about it?"

Gilfrost's stare bore into his own, making him flinch and look nervously away. "That door, where it opened from, it wasn't from this world. It was a door from a _different world_ entirely—which one, I don't _know._ For all I know, those two could've both been intruders from the _Demon Realm_ and what we just saw was them _kidnapping the Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins_."

"B-but that was Sir Ban, wasn't it?" Arthur asks hesitantly. "Sir Ban would never try to do anything to _really_ hurt Sir Meliodas... right?"

Gilfrost only stares. "How can we be sure it _was_ him?" he asks, tone just a hair's breadth away from being scathing. "Or that _Meliodas_ with him for that matter. How can we be sure it was actually Meliodas? Shapeshifting, clones, magical disguises—there're thousands of ways to copy someone's appearance like that! For all we know, that was exactly what we just saw."

For a moment, everyone on the rooftop is struck silent.

"I... don't think they were impostors..." Diane tries though even she seemed hesitant. "I'm pretty sure that was Meliodas. When he arrived, it-it felt just like him! And, besides, he used Full Counter, didn't he?! That's his magic power, right?"

No one could look her in the eye. While she was correct, there were plenty of spells or items that could duplicate techniques like that, and as for her earlier point, while it was true that the presences they felt when the two first fell from the sky had definitely felt like the two Sins at the first glance, they started to feel somewhat _off_ as they actually started to fight. While one of them felt, more or less, like Meliodas, the other... while it was definitely _Ban,_ it was somehow several magnitudes more intense. More powerful. Although all of the Sins with their memories present recognized the techniques he used as applications of his power _Snatch_ , they were on an entirely different scale from those of the Ban they knew. Given the apparently otherworldly magic that heralded their arrival, the explosions that came with their appearance, and even the sheer _strangeness_ of the fact that they were exact doppelgangers of two of the infamous Sins and there really was no way they wouldn't seem suspicious.

"... We can't be sure," Hendrickson says, at last. "It's as he said. As of now, there's no way to know for certain."

"No."

The conviction in her voice startles them all enough to turn to face her. Elizabeth was on her feet. Her face was pale, as it had been ever since the... well, _execution_ began, but her voice was steady, strong, and her eyes were full of conviction.

"That _was_ Sir Meliodas," she says, her voice soft but her words filled with complete self-assurance. "I know it was him. The Sir Meliodas who came from the portal and the Sir Meliodas who fought the Ten Commandments... _both_ of them are Sir Meliodas. I don't know how it happened," she says, forestalling Gilfrost with the sharpness in her eyes. "Or how it _could've_ happened but I'm absolutely certain of it."

"Well, if anyone could tell, I'm sure it would be you, Elizabeth," a very soft, very faint female voice interjects, before anyone else could say a word. The weakness in the voice drew everyone's attention. The sight itself was enough to make people gasp.

It's Elaine. She was slumped on the floor, back against the wall, hands lying limp at her sides, shivering violently despite the warm evening air. Her face was pale and clammy, and her breathing sounded rough and ragged. But despite it all, there was no doubt in her words, only assurance in her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the still-active spell orb, as it had been since their Ban had left.

"Just like... I can tell that that other Ban is definitely... _Ban,_ too _."_

 _"Elaine!"_ King was by her side in seconds. "What's wrong, are you okay?!"

"B-Big brother..." Elaine looks up at him, desperation in her eyes. "It's _him,_ I know it's him..."

"Take it easy," he says. "I-I believe you but I just—"

"Move aside." Elizabeth's voice was filled with a calm, but unyielding authority as she approached, her hands already brilliantly luminescent. King hurried out of her way, everyone around Elaine hastily following suit. "You'll be fine," she soothes. "I'm right here. And I believe you." She closes her eyes in concentration and the light streams from her fingertips. Soon, Elaine's breathing eased and her color, while still pale, became less deathly so. Matrona, who'd been silent ever since Diane's outburst during the battle prior, couldn't help but stare in awe. "... is that better?"

"Ban," she whispers in lieu of answering. "That was Ban. I know it. I can feel it _here_ — _"_ she traces a circle over her heart. "It was him. I just know it. Ban..."

Her eyes wandered weakly back over to the still-active spell orb, landing on the Fox's Sin still present on the battlefield as he readied himself for battle, hands moving sharply over his body in a way that Jericho suddenly recognized from the fight with Galan, the sword Lostvayne gleaming in his grip.

"Be safe..."

* * *

Before this all started, all Ban thought he was going to do was go help Escanor deliver some ale then be on his way to try and get back to the rest of the Sins. It was nothing interesting but, hell, after the fight with Galan and Melascula, he wasn't exactly going to complain too much. Escanor had been the one to save his sorry ass after all; he could do some delivery work, no problem.

Then the _giant, fricking labyrinth_ popped out of nowhere, separated him from Elaine, King, Jericho, and Escanor, had him fighting for his life against monster after monster, dodging death traps, and navigating a gigantic maze with no apparent exit in sight. It was everything a boring delivery job was not. He couldn't say he exactly disliked it. It wasn't exactly dangerous, not to _him_ , anyway, and he was pretty sure King and Jericho could help protect Elaine just fine, though he knew she could take care of herself, of course.

Then there was his unexpected reunion with the Captain and most of the rest of the Sins and their, quite frankly, _coerced_ entry into the so-called fighting festival. Well, that part, he really couldn't say he didn't enjoy, at least a little. He got to fight at his favorite fighting buddy's side, see some half-decent bouts between the other competitors, and even watch his Elaine as she showed off just why she was the best, no contest, in the ring. He didn't _like_ that he was forced to be there but since he was there, at least he got to enjoy himself a little.

Then his best friend nearly died.

It's as if the memory's been branded into the backs of his eyelids, it keeps playing over and over again in his head. He doesn't have to try to remember, he keeps seeing it anyway. The feeling of his heart hammering in his throat as he watched him initially keep pace against the Drole and Gloxinia, the wave of icy terror going down his spine when the rest of the living Commandments crashed onto the scene, the desperate hope the he just _might_ make it as he saw that _Revenge Counter_ flaring into existence around him and—

—and that hope turning into ashes in his mouth at the butchering that came after.

He doesn't need to try to remember because it's still playing in his mind and he already knows, even now, that the sound of his friend's screams, the sight of that breathless _agony_ on his face, as those swords pierced through his hearts was going to haunt him for a while. He'd literally been _right there_ and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. Everything he tried, none of it so much as phased the bastard, and he couldn't do anything but watch as the light started to leave his best friend's eyes.

Then everything _exploded._

He's honestly not sure what exactly happened after the explosion. All he knows is, in the _micro_ seconds after the bastard planted the sixth blade, something fell from the sky and crashed right behind him, _exploded_ (ripping him in two, not that that lasted long), then, all of a sudden, a _second_ Captain was there, _Meliodas,_ identical to the one he'd been watching save the clothes, lack of bloodstains, and, oh yeah, _lack of stab wounds_ , looking about as confused as he felt.

Then a second _him_ showed up too, as casual as anything, chatting with the second Captain like he was talking about the weather. Because why not? He nearly saw his best friend die, a _second_ of his best friend appeared out of frickin' _nowhere_ , and, _apparently_ , he has an identical twin he doesn't know about because _this was what his life had become._ Hell. Actual mind-fucked _hell._

But, at the very least, if a second him could show up out of nowhere, at least it was one who was actually _useful._ He, the _second_ him—and holy fucking shit, but _that_ was going to need some getting used to—managed to grab the Cap'n, the _stabbed_ one, before the Commandments could react, ran like hell, and actually _managed_ to do it. With two Meliodas(es) in hand, he somehow managed to elude all the Commandments there in a fighting retreat while _he_ could do nothing but watch and reattach his spine to heal it back on.

They all just ignored him, of course. Why would they take notice, he was fuckin' useless, wasn't he?

Of course, all that was _then._

 _Now,_ he was standing by himself, about to face off against all of the Commandments remaining with only Lostvayne, a weapon that while strong was damned unsuitable for someone with his skills, buying time while his long lost twin brother or whoever the _fuck_ that was escaped with two of his one best friend.

A different person might've started praying now, for sanity or mercy, whichever. Another person might've started begging now.

But Ban?

He'd be damned if he let himself stay useless now.

He finishes his preparations, arms held crossed over his chest, Lostvayne held readied in his right hand as he looked out at the encroaching Commandments. He thinks of the body, his _best friend_ , in his look-alike's arms, impaled six-fold and looking absolutely tiny for the first time since he'd met him. He thinks of the _other one_ , the other version of his best friend, who logic dictated had to be some kind of magical clone or creature in disguise but who his every instinct screamed was the same person as his friend, the Dragon's Sin of Wrath. And it wasn't because of his face or because of his aura or anything like that, but because of the trust and concern in his eyes when he looked at him and told him they needed to go.

Honestly, he was _immortal._ He can't die even if he wanted to and yet that damned, sentimental dumbass looked honestly more terrified _for_ him than he was for himself. He knows exactly two people stupidly softhearted enough to care _that_ much about an undead scumbag like him and those were Elaine and the Cap'n. He doesn't know how or why there's _two_ of the Cap'n now but, right now, he honestly doesn't _care._

They were there and they needed him. They were there and he has a chance to protect them. They were there and he can't fail them. Right now, that's all he needs to know.

He looks on as the armored form of Dreyfus and the white-cloaked Commandment approach, stretches his senses to their absolute limits, grasps, then _snarls_ :

 _"Hunter Fest!"_

* * *

Ban had barely taken two steps inside of the Boar Hat when he fell onto his knees, suddenly without the strength to stand. He only barely had the presence of mind to make sure to cushion the body in his arms before he collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, limbs feeling heavier than lead.

"Damn it..." he mutters, annoyed. "Couldn't you have held out a few minutes longer? Fuckin' useless... " he complains, looking distasteful over his own body. Then his eyes fell to the still-unconscious form of his best friend in his arms. "Hope I didn't hurt you there, Cap'n..."

"Ban?!"

Meliodas' emotions, who'd stayed outside to convince Hawk Mama to start running for Liones, were at his side at once, eyes wide with shock and concern.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!"

He leans back, still gasping for breath, his expression remaining unconcerned. "Ugh... looks like I overdid it back there," he wheezes. "Don't worry 'bout me, Captain, Get _this_ guy—" he jerks his head, indicating the grievously wounded body he'd carried, now lying off to one side, swords still sticking out of his chest " —treated up first. I'll be fine. Really," he adds, on seeing his friend's skeptical expression, briefly baring his fangs in a grin. "I am immortal, after all."

He felt him staring at him even as he picked up his body, still looking unconvinced. "I can carry _both_ of you, you know," the emotions point out. And, yeah, that was true and Ban more than knew it. Though he didn't have anywhere near the quite frankly _ridiculous_ strength he had back in their time, from when he was... well, in his actual body, he was still much stronger than the average person or even Holy Knight. Back in Purgatory, he'd been able to carry Ban himself without too much trouble. Hell, now, he was already carrying himself and he barely even seemed to notice the weight. He could probably handle the both of them, no problem.

But still, Ban only laughs.

"You kidding? With your puny little arms, how do you expect to carry the both of us at once? Don't worry me, Captain, using _Hunter Fest_ like that just..." he has to pause so he can yawn, loudly and almost obnoxiously, finishing up with closed eyes. "... reeeally wears me out. I'll be fine after a little nap. Take care of yourself first, I'm the immortal here, remember?"

"... alright, if you're sure."

He still sounded doubtful but at least he was letting him be. "But as soon as I get him up to bed, I _will_ be down to check in on you!"

"Kaa~" Ban manages a cackle of a laugh. "Whatever floats your boat, Captain. As for me, I'm just gonna... nap for a bit here..."

Right then and there, he lay back against the floorboards and started to snore. It was so loud, some might have thought it was just an act, but after having spent about a century travelling with him in Purgatory, the emotions knew it was genuine almost all too well.

"You really wiped yourself out, didn't you? Yeesh..." He shook his head, even as he adjusted his hold on his counterpart of his time, the body remaining slack in his arms even after all this time. "Sweet dreams."

Just as he reaches the foot of the steps leading upstairs, he looks out of the window. With Hawk Mama going at full throttle, they'd already moved a couple of miles in just the scant few minutes that had passed since they'd left the other Ban behind. Even close to the Commandments' sphere of influence, the skies were clear, the dark of the night beginning to pale back as the dawn approached, deep blues giving way to white gold. Here, the air was warm against his skin and nothing more. They were in Britannia and it was gorgeous. He'd almost forgotten, after all that time. How beautiful it all was.

"Hey, Ban?" he says in almost a whisper, even knowing Ban was too tired to really hear, much less reply, knowing that the _other_ one was far off and likely fighting for his life. "Thank you," he finishes simply, honestly. "For saving me."

* * *

All the Commandments stagger in mid-air as the technique leeched the strength right out of them. At first, the rush of power that flooded into his body is almost too much to bear. He drew on as much as he could take, and with eight Commandments around, that was at a value far greater than he'd ever taken before, from the fight against Galan, and that had already been enough to drain him for hours after. The power now is enough to tear his muscles and crack his bones even from just its acceptance. It isn't just painful to hold on, it's _agonizing,_ but he continues to hold on regardless, ignoring the taste of blood filling his mouth. He could heal faster than his stolen power could destroy. It didn't matter if he hurt, not right now.

He still has no idea what's going to happen. Hell, he has no idea what _just_ happened. He's about to fight the Commandments as they came, hold them off as long as he could, all by himself. They might've been happy to ignore him earlier but what he just did was nothing less than an invitation for war. They were going to fight, him and all the Commandments still alive.

Knowing himself, it just sounded like a bad joke.

Yet, somehow, all he feels is calm.

In his hands, Lostvayne is less of a sword and more of a dagger, and he wasn't very practiced with those. But its edge is sharp as hell, moreso than any blade he's used in the past few years. It wasn't Courechouse or even his nunchucks but it would more than suffice. The question was...

"How does it go again...?"

It's been a long while since he's seen Lostvayne. He has no idea how the Cap'n's found it since he last saw him. But it didn't matter. Right now, he has to remember...

A memory finally flits to mind, one of a day from long ago, before they were ever framed by Dreyfus or Hendrickson or whoever the hell it was possessing them. It was the day Cap'n demonstrated his repeated Full Counters, using what had been one of Gowther's Jack arrows for a very dangerous game of "racquetball" with himself as the only player. All things considered, it had been a quiet day, an uneventful one, but it had been one of the first since Elaine's death that he'd felt at peace, even for just a few seconds. The memory makes him grin.

"I remember, now..." he remarks, the stolen power from _Hunter Fest_ straining for release, physically tearing his muscles as they did. " _Sacred Treasure Activate_ ," he snarls and the sword burns in his hand, sending a pulse of heat rushing all throughout his body. "Let's go!"

He dashes to meet the Commandments' head-on. The strength he'd sapped from them via _Hunter Fest_ drains with every step he takes and he can sense that even his regeneration has weakened from the sacred treasure's activation, his damaged muscles healing more sluggishly than he's every recalled it doing so before.

... but another five of him are right there with him, each holding a copy of that absurdly sharp blade. As one, they scream:

" _Physical Hunt!"_

New strength floods all of their veins just as Dreyfus and the white-cloaked Commandment stumble, weakened. The clones might've divided what power he'd initially stolen but he could replenish what they drained and they could steal themselves. They scatter just before Dreyfus' retaliatory _Arhat Spread Shot_ can take their heads. Two clones smirk before closing in on the possessed knight, blades outstretched. Dreyfus only barely manages to parry both strikes with his sword when—

 _"Assault Hunt!"_ The attack shears through flesh and bone, armor and steel. Dreyfus' arm clatters to the ground, still in its gauntlet, sword still in its clenched fist. "Y'dropped something," Ban drawls in deceptively casual sing-song from where he was standing right him, Lostvayne held out. "What were you looking at?"

"You— _!_ "

 _"Physical Hunt!"_

Another clone struck from behind, making the possessed knight stagger at the further loss of strength, buying Ban time. Ban's eyes gleamed as lunged, blade pointed at his heart—

Meanwhile, four clones rush at Monspiet, Lostvaynes glowing. _"Assault Hunt!"_

... but their attacks merely glance off of the darkness covering his skin. The Commandment's eyes flashed with dark energy and they leap back just as a wave of black fire exploded from his body. One clone is overwhelmed in the flames but another strikes Monspiet from behind, neatly severing his hand from his wrist, a third clone skewering it on his sword.

"—ree, _four!_ "

Derieri _crashes_ onto the battlefield, landing straight through the burning clone, crushing him and his Lostvayne in two, making both disappear in a flicker of light. Her darkness was formed into claws and her expression was absolutely furious. " _Fi_ — _"_

Another clone tackles Derieri bodily from behind, giving Ban just enough time slam a kick against her skull as he leapt from Dreyfus as he reformed. The darkness covering her skin stops his blade in its tracks when he tries to stab her but it does nothing against the two clones coming in from behind, slamming the pommels against her back. "Agh!"

" _Breakable Bug!"_

A swarm of bugs was suddenly swarming all over him, claws and pincers ripping at his flesh. With his regeneration weakened, he could sense their poison as it tried to spread through his system.

... but he doesn't give a _damn_ _._ "Fuckin' insects! _Die!"_

A quick twist of his body and a surge of power is all it takes. The insects all fall to the ground, split or squashed or otherwise destroyed. An odd ache spreads through his chest, kind of a _drain,_ but he pays it no heed, leaping back once more to avoid a piercing bolt from Dreyfus' sword, letting another two clones tangle with Derieri, leaving the one with Monspiet's hand dodging away from his flames. From here, he's got a clear shot on everyone... He's never done this one before but, hell, he's seen _him_ do it and he has to try—

 _"Sensory Hunt!"_

Derieri's expression doesn't change in the slightest. As he watches, she outright grabs a clone by the hand and slams him against his kin with a snarl of " _Eighteen."_ Her eyes were as clear as ever.

All of the Commandments' eyes were as clear as ever.

He doesn't let himself feel too disappointed, and instead raises his hand and goes for something tried and tested. _"Physical_ —"

 _"Five Lost!"_

He dodges the dark bolt aimed at him from high above, only barely managing a wild energized slash of Lostvayne in response. The weak, unfocused jolt only shattered against his newest foe's body, leaving no marks.

"How are you still standing?!" came its inhuman screech. He hadn't known but a _fourth_ Commandment had arrived, the one of grey flesh and darkness. It hovered over him now, all its faces staring, _glaring_. "My Commandment should have taken away all the time you had left!"

"Oh, is that what it does? Didn't I tell you~" he drawls, forcing calm into his voice as he brought his sword to bear. Four Commandments. He couldn't even take down one when there were just _two._ He needed to do better. He _was_ going to do better. "I'm immortal~ I've got all the time in the _world!"_

The last word comes out as a scream as he and two other clones charge in from all around the gigantic demon, their Lostvaynes aglow with violet light as they forced power into their blades, their eyes wild red and gleaming as they screamed as one.

 _"Banishing Kill!"_

Their glowing blades lash straight through even the darkness of Grayroad's body, splitting the demon into three. The split masks gape comically at him for the briefest fraction of a second before the two clones grabbed the falling flaps then ran away in opposite directions, bodily pulling the mass of gray flesh and darkness apart.

"Enough!"

The two clones pulling are suddenly engulfed in black fire. Over their heads, Monspiet floated on dark wings, eyes flickering. He raised up his arm to call more fire—

... But is unable to. Two more clones were standing behind him, hands held outstretched to hold back his arm with the invisible power of _Snatch,_ their eyes gleaming scarlet. He breaks off their grip with just a flick of his wrist but even that move bought just enough time for the clones to back off, for Ban to make his move.

" _Banishing Kill!"_

The technique gashes Lostvayne into his chest, the glowing sword biting through his cloak and the darkness covering his skin—and just _barely_ missing his heart by inches. Ban's eyes gleamed the color of blood as he grasped the blade and started to twist towards the lone heart he sensed, three clones bodily grappling Derieri away before she could intervene, one clone fending off against Dreyfus. With Grayroad still recovering, he had a chance and—

Then Ban exploded.

There was almost no warning, no buildup. One second, he was just about to permanently put down the Commandment Monspiet when his blood boiled in his veins and his entire body was suddenly _not-a-body_ and fell apart at the seams, the clones following suit in bursts of white light, swords fading one after the other. Lostvayne fell with a clatter into the gory remnants of what had been a hand. All that was left was the sword, a puddle of blood, and torn chunks of flesh. Almost nothing was left. It could not be said that Ban fell unconscious for, at that moment in time, he was not merely so. Rather, it was physically impossible for him to _be_ conscious.

Behind all that was left of him, Estarossa hovered on dark wings, eyes cold and black. He dispelled his wings, avoiding his fellow Commandments as they pulled themselves together, and made his way towards the remains. He picks out the sword from the bloody puddle that was all that was left of their opponent and studies it, from the curving design of the blade to the dragon emblem inscribed onto its hilt. It was a fine weapon. Anyone could see that.

Then he tosses it aside, looking disdainful.

"What a pest."

* * *

In a secret room hidden within the Boar Hat, a spell orb was floating over a stone statue. If there were someone present able to see mostly-disembodied souls, they would've seen the figure of a tall, dark-haired woman manifesting around the spell orb, one looking inquisitive as she eyed the sigils painted on the walls of her secret room, the runestones and the charms set haphazardly across the tables and shelves.

"Was... that an alarm?" she asks aloud. If she were in her body, her frown would've been visible. "Did something set off my security wards?"

She pauses, focusing briefly on the spells cast on the walls. It wasn't reporting any abnormalities... Perhaps the Captain and the others had returned? In that case, it should've been much louder now, shouldn't it...

As far as her security warding was concerned, it was as if an accepted presence had entered... they reported nothing after that. And she couldn't remember hearing Hawk Mama sounding any alarm (or attack, for that matter).

Well, if it were an intruder meaning to do harm, they would've gotten roasted by her security wards, and if it were a customer, they would've been repelled not just by her camouflage charms but also by the 'CLOSED' sign she'd very cleverly hung on the door. Anyway, she could think of a million different reasons for why someone might come back for a while, like if, say, Griamore finally had enough and forced Slader to bring him back, of which none precipitated a need for her to come down and leave her experimentation on the Commandment of Truth curse...

"Mmm. It's probably nothing, then," she dismisses, returning her attention back to her own petrified body. "I'll check downstairs later."

* * *

 **Now everyone is confused, Ban is a puddle, the other Ban snores, Meliodas' body is a pincushion, Meliodas' emotions have to play nurse, and Merlin is oblivious. (** **I did a lot of backreading for this and I'm still not sure where Merlin was during the festival so, here, she was housesitting).** **More funky stuff in the future, I would think.**

 **I'll admit, this chapter got wildly out of hand while I was writing it. This is post-paring, too. But, this was fun to write, I'll admit.**

 **Anyway, feedback is hugely appreciated and have a nice day.**

 **EDIT: Went back over the grammar again and fixed what I spotted. If anyone spots anything, feel free to tell me.**

 **Oh, and, since I forgot to mention it, I'm trying to stick to a schedule in updating this. Next chapter should ideally be up by February 22, my time. Though, I should also mention that I'm in uni and am kinda really busy there. I'll do my best, though! Maybe I'll draw a better cover by then, too.**


	3. The Respite

**... I'm naturally rambly, at midterms season, and write as stress relief. M'pretty sure this qualifies as 'out of hand'. Explosions were minimal, too...**

 **Welp, hope it's enjoyed anyway! Huge thanks to everyone who leaves feedback.**

* * *

It's around what little remained of the Fox's Sin Ban that the Commandments reconvened once more, all of them damaged to some extent or the other and more than a little wary of any more sudden intruders.

Among them, Drole and Gloxinia were some of the worst off, having had to fight an (at the time) relatively fresh Meliodas by themselves before the rest of them had arrived. Though Drole's _Heavy Metal_ had saved both him and Gloxinia from taking too much damage from the interferer's twin's (?) _Crazy Hunt,_ they certainly hadn't escaped unscathed, not after the _Full Counter_ that had rebounded Monspiet's full-powered _Hellfire Phoenix_ into a damned inferno.

But even they, hurt as they were, were nothing compared to Melascula, who was currently a twisted, once-again charred husk of a figure lying limp in one of Drole's arms, only barely kept alive by her lone remaining heart, as still as she had been since the first interloper had broken her neck and crushed her hearts. Zeldris, for his part, could not blame her, feeling a stab of sympathy at the sight of her when he finally caught up with the rest of them.

Losing even one heart, he could now attest, was absolutely _painful_. Losing five at almost all at once? He couldn't even imagine. He wouldn't be surprised if it took her at least a month to recover without aid.

Yet more reason to seek vengeance against the other clans and their constant interference. Their retribution against his brother was an internal matter; no one outside of the Demon clan had any right to intervene. Yet they did anyway, as if they had any stake in the matter. Damned fools.

"Where are they?" he demands upon landing.

"The two who fell from the sky have long left this place," Drole replies. His renowned magical eye seemed distant. "With Meliodas in tow."

Although he'd expected it, the reply makes his teeth grit, makes that familiar rage rise in his throat. He quashes it down. This was not the time for it. "And the first one?" he asks. "I saw you all in combat with him," he says, looking to where Fraudrin, Monspiet, Derieri, and Grayroad were all resting, regenerating, with Grayroad, in particular, looking exhausted, as she had been since two of her hearts had been destroyed. "What happened?"

"He... took us by surprise at first, Sir Zeldris," Fraudrin is the one to reply, head hung in obvious shame. "But we were saved when Sir Estarossa arrived."

His gaze lands on his brother. "Where is he now?"

"Dead," was his answer, looking very bored. "I dealt with him myself. Quite frankly, I can't _believe_ it took you all so long to kill one pesky human," he adds, looking contemptuously from Fraudrin, Derieri, Grayroad, then, finally, with particular disdain, to Monspiet, who was currently sealing back the gigantic gash in his chest from when Ban had come close to destroying his last heart. "That human was barely more than a _gnat."_

Derieri looked furious but Monspiet held her back before she could say a word. "He took us by surprise and we underestimated him," he says simply. "It won't happen again."

Estarossa's expression twisted in amusement. "You _under_ estimated him?" he says, disbelieving. "I'd say that you were all just—"

" _Enough,_ Brother," Zeldris cuts in, flashing him a look. "We were _all_ taken by surprise," he says pointedly. "Otherwise, I'm sure you yourself wouldn't have _failed_ in realizing the first of our vengeance against a double of someone you called a 'barely more than a gnat'." Estarossa scowls but doesn't protest. "Regardless of how it happened," he continues. "Meliodas has escaped us once more. As has his... _double._ Monspiet, you're our foremost magician. Do you know what opened that portal?"

"I'm afraid I've no idea," he replies, frowning slightly, tugging contemplatively at the ends of his mustache. "It resembled nothing I'd ever seen before. Generally speaking, matters regarding portals would be more of Melascula's purview. However..." his gaze wandered to her broken form in Drole's hand. "I will do my best to investigate its origins until she awakens."

"Why wait? Can't you just heal her again, Gloxinia?" his older brother suggests, looking supremely disinterested. "You can do that much, can't you?"

The former Fairy King looks at him with cold eyes. "... I'm all out of _Droplets of Life._ I won't be able to use it for a while," Gloxinia says. He didn't need to say it, the _as-you-well-know_ was evident in just the set of his shoulders. "Sorry," he adds, looking to his injured fellow Commandments with some semblance of sincerity.

"It's no matter," Zeldris cuts in. "Peronia will handle her recovery. For now—"

He suddenly pauses.

"I almost forgot..."

He reaches out to that thread of magic connecting them to some distant land, to the eye he'd felt watching them, grasps, then makes it _burn_ _._

Back in Liones, Gilfrost only barely manages to break the spell connecting them to the battlegrounds at Vaizel when his whole spell orb _explodes,_ its shards ricocheting with enough force to crack through solid rock. King was only barely able to call forth Chastiefol's _Guardian_ form in time to protect himself, his sister, and those around them, and it's _Griamore_ , of all people, who managed to protect the rest, having unconsciously summoned a _Long Shield_ around him and everyone else during the moment he'd cried out, terrified by the sudden noise and sight of the explosion. Gilfrost looked at the shattered remnants of his spell orb from behind the summoned shield with fear in his eyes. If he hadn't broken the connection in time, he knew full well he might've died right then and there, killed by a demon from hundreds of miles away.

"S-such power..." he breathes, his pulse pounding loudly in his ears. "Monsters, they're _monsters—!_ "

Zeldris let himself savor the slight satisfaction before turning his attention to his fellow Commandments once more.

"For now, we draw back," he declares. "We will need to rest and recover before we can resume our takeover of Britannia, our pursuit of vengeance. We weren't unscathed in this scuffle but we have not been defeated, not for long. We pull back now but only to recover more of our strength. We have much work to do but for now... we will need to rest. Let's go."

The ruined Vaizel, the labyrinth, they leave it all behind, disappearing on dark wings as dawn washed over Britannia once more.

* * *

"It's a good thing the Boar's Hat was parked nearby," the emotions remarked as he set his body down into his bed, not at all minding bloodying the sheets. "I'm not sure where else we could've gone if it had been far."

There was no reply of any kind. Meliodas—his body of this time—was still unconscious. Now that he has the chance, he steps back to study him critically, to get an idea of what he was going to have to do.

... If it weren't for the faint rise and fall of his chest—or, rather, the _bristling_ of the blades impaling it, he would've thought it was a corpse being prepared for embalming and not someone still alive.

He sits down next to his own unconscious counterpart with a sigh. "But it could've been worse," he tells himself aloud, both himself as in himself and the one sleeping beside him. "I was dead at this point! And dying really hurts, I can remember that much," Then he pats himself on the head, the one lying on the bed. "You're safe now, don't worry. We'll get you patched up."

Meliodas was no doctor, no healer (and his emotions were the same) but he wasn't a stranger to first-aid either. And pretty much anyone could tell that the swords in his chest had to go before he could really get started.

So he grips one of the swords impaled in his unconscious body and pulls.

And pulls.

And _pulls._

...

He sags to the ground, out of breath.

"... I'm just tired," he mutters to himself. "I'm weaker than I would be if I had my body but I'm not _weak_. I'll... just deal with those later," he decides aloud, looking at the swords with some frustration before looking decisively away. "For now," he says, instead. "I'll just take care of you." He briefly thinks back to how this had gone back in his own time, before his own death and revival had led to him skipping through actually experiencing the recovery process. "There's a lot else to take care of. I'm... pretty sure you broke your everything."

It takes a few hours but, by the end of it, Ban's in bed, with food and enough Aberdeen ale to bathe in ready by his bedside for when he woke up, he's eaten some actual, _delicious,_ non-Purgatory food (without crying, of course, he'd deny it before the entirety of Liones if he had to—even if that ripe, fresh apple had been everything food from Purgatory was not and had been absolutely _amazing_ ), which he'd washed down with his favorite Bernia ale, he's got extra medical supplies at the ready, and he's _mostly_ satisfied with his work

Now, the body on the bed looked... better, at least. He'd done his part to at least wash off all the blood and grime from the battle, and disinfect what wounds he could see and reach. The broken arm he'd set with a splint, with salve-soaked cloths arranged over all the bruised flesh, and the stump... well, there wasn't much he could do but tie it off to at least stop the flow of blood. There ultimately wasn't much he could really do. A lot of damage, from what he remembers, was internal, brought about by blasts of magic and physical blows that, while unable to break through his skin, had left their mark all the same. In the aftermath of the battle, even under his rudimentary care, he'd become feverish. The only thing he'd been able to do for that was to arrange some cooling cloths and force some fever solution down his throat. He really hadn't done much.

"Well, by this point, I was already dead, back in my time," he says to himself, with some measure of acceptance. "At least _you're_ still alive. It could be worse. Really."

His one remaining heart was beating a mile a minute but it was miraculously undamaged. His body — _Meliodas_ —was still unconscious and his injuries were, quite frankly, almost ludicrously severe, but he was still alive, with one heart still in good condition—if, admittedly, now getting overworked. All things considered, it could've been worse.

"Our darkness can fix a lot of this just on its own," he tells himself as encouragingly as he can. He's not quite sure which one of him he's trying to convince but it helps. "And Ban's got his Gift and Elizabeth already has her healing magic under control. You'll be fine. I'm pretty sure."

The tourniquet-ed stump seemed to look at him with accusation in its exposed bone.

"Probably."

He wonders where the arm went. As likely as not, it was probably destroyed in the explosions earlier. Now that he was thinking about it, could a druid's healing magic even regenerate whole limbs from almost nothing like this? He's never seen it do anything quite that extreme and he can't quite remember just how much Elizabeth had unlocked of her goddess powers...

Well, that was gonna suck.

"Well... Ban's Gift should be able to help out with that..." he muses to himself. "Probably. Stick to the bright side. You're the one with all the _positive_ emotions here..."

It was an odd feeling but, somehow, he could sense, well, _himself_ inside the person next to him. What little of himself was there, anyway. He was Meliodas, of course, and so the person on the bed was him in a sense, but... by this point in time, a lot of him had been shaved away, as his curse had intended. He'd almost forgotten how much of himself he'd already lost by this point in time. He hadn't really, fully realized until now but, by this point in time, there were more of him, his emotions, his _soul_ , in Purgatory than there were in his body. All those years, all those decades, and he'd only barely had a fragment of his own soul. The part that let him feel emotions, at the very least. His heart, as it were.

It was a wonder he could feel anything.

Then again, he thinks, when the alternative was so much worse, how could he afford to do anything less? He remembers now, by this point in time, every emotion he could still feel, good or bad, he'd embraced with all that was left of his heart. He could think of nothing worse than reverting to how he'd once been, before he'd met Elizabeth, when he'd done nothing but allow the darkness in his blood to consume as it wanted, doing nothing but slake his bloodlust regardless of his own thoughts on the matters surrounding them, mindlessly following objectives set without a care for how little he thought them worth following. He'd been a tool until Elizabeth made him a _person._ He couldn't go back to how he used to be, not ever.

"You'll be fine," he tells himself. "Ban saved me and, now, you. You didn't have to lose even more of me, this time. Once you get back on your feet, you'll have a long road ahead, but you won't be alone. You've got the rest of the Sins behind us, fighting for us. Elizabeth, too. They won't let you go _that_ way, not now, not ever."

Then he pauses. Has to take a deep breath.

"As long as you don't do anything _stupid_ , at least! Honestly, it's bad enough that our dad takes more and more of me away when we die but then you go and use _Assault Mode?!"_ He shakes his head, the memory of the incident still all too clear in his own mind, that feeling of rage and despair spiraling out of control, that need to get moremore _more_ power, reaching deep for a power he hadn't touched in actual _millennia_ then—

—Finding himself in Purgatory, Meliodas' emotions in their entirety, having been forcibly ejected from his body the moment Meliodas had called on Assault Mode.

"You know what happens to us when you use it," he says accusingly, despite knowing that it wasn't _this_ him who'd done it, but _that_ him. "When we use it, we... you _lose_ yourself. _Me._ Just using our darkness—it's hard enough to keep it from overwhelming us as it is and then you call on _Assault_ _Mode?!_ "

He doesn't mean to but caught up in his own emotions, he accidentally knocks over the basin with the water and washcloths he'd used to clean the blood off of his own body, spilling them all over the floor and staining it red. The sight of it makes him release a sigh he hadn't known he'd been holding, making him aware of just how tense he'd become. He forces himself to relax.

"... It's not that I don't _understand,"_ he continues. Because _of course_ he did, he was his complete emotions, he felt the desperation, the rage, the fear, the _despair_ even more keenly than the Meliodas who had ejected him, even in just the remembering of the incident. He knew _why_ it happened, could remember how it felt to have his every instinct scream at him to break out, to save Elizabeth, already awakened to her memories, doomed to die in three days, and out in the presence of someone who could eat souls. "It's just..."

He stops. Takes a deep breath.

"You— _we_ really should've remembered that the Sins were there, too," he says quietly. He bent to tidy up what he'd spilled, wiping away the bloody spillage before drying the floor with the remainder of the washcloths he'd brought. "We should've trusted them to keep her safe. That she could keep _herself_ safe. We don't have to do everything by ourselves, not anymore."

"I guess I can't really preach too much," he has to admit to himself. "It was my fault, too. I was as much of a part of calling on _Assault Mode_ as anything—I _was_ you at the time. Part of you, anyway. Part of _him._ He— _I_ panicked, _I_ called for more power... I just didn't mean to call for _that._ "

He finally stands, the floor now mostly clean, the basin full of washcloths balanced at his hip.

"But now, you know. So you don't have any excuses if you end up repeating the mistakes we made," he tells him, remembering what Ban had told him about what his own body had done in the hours after he'd been ejected, that damned _idiot._ "You're pretty stupid without me, you know that?"

As he had been from the very beginning, his counterpart remained unconscious. One might say he was sleeping like the dead. Still, he manages a small smile at himself as he bent to readjust the cooling cloths on his forehead.

"You're going to be fine. We'll tell you everything."

The unconscious Meliodas does not respond, of course, but something about the silence brings him peace, nonetheless.

Without saying another word, without _needing_ to say another word, he dutifully does what care he can for his counterpart, relishing that he doesn't have to worry about being attacked by monsters even once as he does so. It's the first time in actual _centuries_ that he's truly felt... _safe,_ and, once he's done all that he can, he looks out of the window, notes the changing skies, then looks at his own sleeping self with some longing.

Hawk Mama would keep running without the need for supervision, Ban was still snoring in the room above, and his own still-unconscious counterpart wasn't in any immediate danger. If it were just for a little while... he could probably get some sleep, too.

* * *

Merlin has to admit, she'd done a pretty poor job of "house sitting", as the Captain had called it, but in her defense, her body was currently a literal stone statue. She's more than willing to bet that more than one would agree that trying to find a cure for such a malady ought to take precedence over "house sitting" something built on Hawk Mama, a creature that could somehow eat an attack straight from the Commandments' premier hellblaze manipulator without even flinching. Besides, the Boar Hat was already enchanted with spells to keep out intruders with hostile intentions. She was sure it could survive her taking the day to try and break the Commandment's curse. Her incredibly cleverly placed 'CLOSED' sign could handle the rest. After all, it wasn't like they were strapped for funds and there was no way she was going to waste time or energy serving customers in her current state.

Certainly, she's willing to admit that didn't excuse her not realizing there were three, unexpected new presences in the bar until several hours after they'd arrived _and_ that Hawk Mama was on the move and had literally travelled over a hundred miles since she'd last checked on what was happening downstairs but, at the very least, she feels she could be understood. Somewhat. Most likely.

She was certain Escanor would, at least.

The three had to be accepted presences if her warding had allowed them to enter the Boar Hat without so much as alarming her, as they would've if they were (illiterate) customers, and they were obviously non-hostile given that the seemingly-unattended establishment had not exploded since she'd last checked in on it but, just to be safe, she turns Aldan invisible as she goes through the tavern. The bar area itself looked to be mostly unchanged... though there did seem to be more bloodstains than she remembered. (Howzer must've been the one to mop before they left)

It's upstairs that she gets her first real shock.

" _Captain!_ "

Aldan is by his side in a flash, her best diagnostic spells half-casted even as she did her best to do the same thing by eye. He looked frankly _horrific_ but by the sound of his breathing, the sense of his presence, he was obviously still alive, even if the sight of _six_ swords sticking out of his chest was, to put it mildly, a little worrisome. Someone had obviously given him medical attention, going by the bandages and cooling cloths, but going by the absence of the afterglow of druidic healing magic, it hadn't been by her Big Sis Sis—rather, _Princess Elizabeth's_ hand, nor even from Hendrickson's. Whoever had done it didn't even seem to be present; she couldn't sense anyone other than Meliodas in the room.

He was... well, _fine_ was grossly overestimating things but he certainly wasn't in danger of dying at the moment. Aside from the obvious, the six swords piercing six hearts, the _stump_ where his right arm had been, and the multitude of bruises painting his skin, majority of his bones were damaged to some extent or the other, he'd lost quite a lot of blood, and all that damage he had taken was severely overstraining his system. While all demons were born in such a way that they could survive so long as one heart remained, that certainly didn't mean that their bodies could easily adjust to the sudden destruction of vital organs. Her spell told her that without healing magic, he'd be out of commission for the next few weeks, and that was assuming he'd wake up and reseal off the worst of it with his darkness before long. The only good thing her diagnosis reported was that he was not in any danger of dying in bed. He was in absolutely _terrible_ shape.

She tries to remove the swords only for them to spark malevolently on contact with her magic, making him hiss, _pained,_ as they did. She stops immediately.

"What in the world happened to you..?" she asks, before fully realizing that he couldn't answer. "I thought your plan to go after Drole and Gloxinia was reckless but I didn't think they could..."

It's when she goes to survey him from the other side of the bed that she gets her second shock.

"What in the world?"

On the floor next to the other side of the bed was a makeshift nest of pillows and sheets, and on it was _another_ Meliodas, this one dressed in unfamiliar clothes, wrapped up in blankets, and evidently fast asleep.

She hadn't fully recognized it until just now but there were _two_ presences in the room, not just one. This... _double,_ while his aura unmistakably that of her fellow Sin, was somehow... _less_ than that of the Captain she knew (though, oddly enough, it was also _more_ ), and with the Captain—the one she was _sure_ was the Captain who'd left for the festival—in his current state, she'd initially mistook their combined, weakened presences as that of just... Meliodas. _One_ Meliodas. Of whom there ought to be only one, of whom there were somehow _two_. In fact, by all appearances, he'd been the one to care for the one on the bed

She extends a wisp of magic out through Aldan to survey the second one. His tattoo as the Dragon's Sin was clear on his left arm, and she could recognize the magic that branded it there as her own. It really was him. Meliodas. Just as the one on the bed was _also_ him, somehow. They were _both_ Meliodas. This was certainly... _interesting._

And she'd sensed _three_ presences earlier. These only accounted for two. Though she was loath to leave either of them, she goes up to the next room, leaving only a simple charm that would alarm her if one were to awaken.

In the room where Gilthunder, Howzer, and Griamore had been staying in was a man, asleep, snoring, tucked into the room's one bed as if he were a child. It was—it had to be _Ban_ but something was definitely different about him. New clothes aside, he looked more or less the same but his _aura..._

The sense of his presence had always been strong, of course, he was one of the Seven Deadly Sins after all, but never to _this_ extent. Even while he was unconscious, she could sense that he was _shockingly_ powerful, at a level she didn't think possible for honestly _anyone_ to achieve in the short span of time since she'd last seen him, when he'd resigned from the Seven Deadly Sins. It was still, recognizably, undoubtedly _Ban_ but the difference in power was just _exponential_. Curious...

Another wisp of extended magic and she could see sense his tattoo as the Fox's Sin clear as day at his waist, recognize the magic that left it there as her own. Despite how impossible it seemed, the two were indeed Meliodas and Ban. Impostors or magical clones might be able to trick Hawk Mama's sense of smell, might've even been able to bypass her security spells, but she knew of nothing that could replicate the feel of her magic like that. In fact, as far as she knew, such imitation was impossible.

Despite herself, a smirk curled over her lips.

 _Very_ interesting.

This bore further investigation...

* * *

In the skies over Vaizel, a serpentine blue creature with scaled wings was circling the still-smoking battleground as the sun rose high and a moon appeared like a heat haze in the sky. After the preparations for the festival that had disfigured the land and destroyed its home, it now spent its days scavenging for scraps whenever it spotted an area absent of other living beings. It had been very loud here earlier, what with the fighting from the festival but the 'festivities' were over and the participants were all gone now. And the creature could spot something small and very shiny down by one of the many bodies the 'festivities' had left behind.

It dives, plucking the pretty thing into its beak, the object slotting neatly against its beak and shining brightly in the sunlight. It might've lost its home (and all the shiny things it had collected) but with everything it had regathered, it could finally get started on rebuilding anew.

Then the creature is yanked cruelly to the earth by some invisible, inexorable force, landing in the palm of a large, rough hand, and held over an amused-looking face.

"Rude~"

Sharp red eyes were staring at it with derision. The hand holding it began to squeeze.

"Don't you know not to take what isn't yours," Ban mock-lectures the monster he was holding. "I'll be taking _this_ back." He plucks Lostvayne out of its beak, leaving it to squeal and protest in his grip before, without any further ado, he squishes it in its entirety, the creature exploding in a burst of gore in his fist. He shook his hand clean without sparing it a second thought. "The Captain'll kill me if I lose this~" he says idly to himself, twirling Lostvayne once, twice, thrice, before stopping. "And there's _two_ of 'em now, somehow."

Ban pulls himself onto his feet with a grunt, new skin still sore and sensitive. The Commandments were long gone and he, freshly regenerated from what felt like less than a piece of skin. Even he'd half-thought he was a goner for a second or so after getting beaten down so hard. No matter, he was already back to normal, if maybe a bit cold. Damn them, he was only borrowing those pants.

"Now to get back to the others and find out what the fuck is going on..."

"Indeed, Ban."

He fairly _leapt_ out of his skin. "Who the _fu_ — _"_

High overhead, poking out upside-down from the apparent moon, was a familiar, irritatingly neutral-looking face that stared at him with a discomforting intensity. "It is I, Gowther, the Goat's Sin of Lust, here to fetch you, my precious comrade-in-arms," he says, his voice beautifully, woodenly emotional. Then, with a tilt to his head: "And you are naked. I am appalled."

He stares right back. "What the fuck, Gowther? How'd you even get here?!"

"I am here to fetch you. King and I have been scrying through here for signs of your presence, as well as that of your double and the Captains, for the past three hours," he explains. "And I came here through King's dog."

He only looked more lost. And annoyed.

"Wha..? Y'know what, fuck it, I'm not even gonna question it. Just get me outta here. And get me some pants while you're at it."

"Will do."

* * *

The sun is high in the sky by the time he wakes up and the sight of it was beautiful enough that he laughs upon seeing it. He'd half-expected everything to have just been a dream but, no. This was real. He was really in Britannia, after all that time. He was _safe._

... well, as safe as anyone could be in a place still plagued by demons who all hated him as a traitor, and with the Ten Commandments, who all _personally_ hated him as a traitorous backstabber, still on the prowl,

Safe enough, anyway.

His counterpart was still asleep but that wasn't unexpected. To his relief, the fever had broken at some point while he'd slept and his remaining heart didn't seem as overwrought as before. He wasn't in good condition, mind, but he was better, at least. As soon as Ban woke up, as soon as they reached _Elizabeth_ , he would make a full recovery, he was sure. But first... he had to get rid of the swords.

He can do this much. He's sure of it. He's had plenty of time to get back his energy, he's eaten (delicious) real food, he's gotten some proper, restful, non-Purgatory sleep—hell, he'd even snuck in a hot _bath_ before he'd gone to sleep and he felt _amazing_ right now. He's awake, fresh, strong, and lively. He can _do_ this. He _knows_ he can. Using both hands, great determination in his eyes, he grips one of the swords impaled in his unconscious body and pulls.

And pulls.

And _pulls._

 _And pulls!_

...

He sags to the ground, out of breath once more.

"... now, _this..._ this is just embarrassing," he mutters to himself. "No body or not, this is just pathetic!"

Then, suddenly, the impaled swords all flew out of the body of their own accord, as simply and easily as sliding pins out of a pincushion. It was done so smoothly, Meliodas didn't stir even once.

"Captaaaain, it's not a sin to ask for help you know," Ban complains, in sing-song, from his spot leaning by the doorway. The emotions hadn't so much as sensed his presence but Ban'd been there since he'd been woken by the sound of the emotions struggling with the swords not two minutes past. It only took the immortal one hand to hold all six of the swords. His other hand was nursing one of the bottles of Aberdeen he'd left for him. "I told you y'can call me if you needed anything!"

As if to prove his point, the extracted swords disintegrate into dust in Ban's hand, leaving the bandit looking bemusedly at it.

The emotions grumble as he puffs out his cheeks. "I didn't think they'd be stuck _that_ hard." Then he turned to look up at him. "You were asleep when I last checked in on you. How are you feeling?"

"Back in perfect shape! I told ya, all I needed was a little nap." He saunters over to the bedside, snagging one of the chairs from the little table set nearby as he did so, expression turning serious. "How's he doing?"

"Not great," he sighs in reply as he pulls himself off of the ground, dusting himself off as he did. "But it could be worse," he says. "I'm made of pretty stern stuff!"

"Don't I know it~" Ban sets the chair by the bedside and settles down next to his friend's unconscious form, looking him over as he did. The Meliodas of this time, he was battered, bruised, and beat to _shit_ but, miraculously, he was _alive._ Because _he_ got him out. Somehow, he has to smile. "... At least I got to save you in this world, Cap'n."

"Hm?" The emotions were looking at him from the other side of the bed, damped cloths in his hands. Now that he was able to, he was cleaning out the stab wounds on his chest properly. "Ban, were you saying something?"

"Nooothin'~"

"Okay..." The emotions gave him a strange look before letting it pass. "Now, I'm made of pretty stern stuff, but without some kind of healing magic, he's going to be out for a while."

It didn't take a genius to get the hint. "Right, riiight. Here we go..." Ban cracked his knuckles once, took a deep breath, then held his hand out over the body. " _Gift."_

Power exploded outward from his hand and into the body in a rush of warm light, both reminiscent of the attack that had so weakened his father in their ultimately disastrous last fight and yet completely different. Gentler, somehow. His Gift was not exactly a proper healing spell but a direct transfer of his own lifeforce that could temporarily grant others his powerful regeneration, something feasible only through his own immortality and, even then, only in short bursts lest he fully lose it. Years of travel together after he'd discovered the ability told the emotions that he was giving a lot right now, enough to risk the loss. It wasn't exactly unexpected but he felt touched, nonetheless.

It is after a seemingly endless couple of minutes that Ban breaks off the connection, panting, pale, and sweaty after his exertions. "Well?"

... Despite it all, the body looked mostly unchanged.

"... well, the lights looked pretty," he says, at last. He doesn't fully mean to but he looks at Ban with something of a question in his eyes. Not a trace of suspicion but certainly questions. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" he asks, concerned. "There's no reason why that shouldn't have worked. You're not sick or anything, are you?"

"I'm immortal, Captain. I don't _do_ sick." He looked to his hands with some frustration. "This _is_ my first time doing this with someone as beat up as this guy," he points out, though he seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as anyone. "Maybe it just... needs more time or something."

"That could be it," he acknowledges. "It's hard to know for sure without being able to check for sure though..." He studies his counterpart with a critical eye, particularly noting the still-open wounds on his chest. He's seen Ban regenerate from literal pulp before but, now, it wasn't even closing simple, albeit deep, chest wounds. Maybe the problem was with himself? He knew all of the Commandments and their capabilities, though, and he didn't know of any Commandments being able to stop healing like this, and it was certainly not one of the Commandment curses...

"Just gimme a few minutes to catch my breath, Captain," Ban finally says, his tone of seeming nonchalance. "I probably just didn't do it right the first time."

He only looks doubtful. "I don't think _you_ did anything wrong..." he says. "I think maybe my _—his_ bo—no, _Meliodas,_ here..."

He blinks.

"Actually... I have an idea." He reaches out to place a hand over the unconscious Meliodas' chest. At Ban's inquiring look, he explains: "Meliodas, _this_ one... he doesn't have much of _me_ left. It's not as bad as with the Meliodas of our time but he's pretty far from complete. _I'm_ his complete emotions, all the missing parts of his soul. Maybe, if I try to sort of... _fill in_ what he doesn't have for a moment, I can see for myself if he's healing alright. I can see if I can't... _Empathize."_

At the moment he said that last word, there was something like a rush of magic where his hand met skin, the emotions' palm becoming luminescent where it made contact with the body, who stirred feebly about before settling down once more. In contrast, the emotions' eyes snapped wide open, pupils shrinking down to black pinpricks against bright green. His lip quivered and his breathing turned shaky. Without much more of a warning, he fell onto his knees, shuddering, hand still glowing where it seemed to be stuck to his past self's skin.

"... _ow."_

Ban was on his feet in that same breath. "What is it, Captain?!"

"That _really_ hurts!" For the first time ever, his voice came out as childish as he looked, rather startling his friend. "Damn, I forgot how much having a body hurts! Ugh, my _hearts..._ Is that really how it feels to have your hearts grow back in?! I really should Elizabeth for fixing my body for me before I got back— Oh, bones, _bones_ _owowowow_ — _"_ He flinches backward away from the body, landing with his back against the wall, staring ahead at himself, obviously shaken and still shaking. "Phew... Well, it's working, at least. It was just... focusing on the hearts first. _Oww..._ "

"And you doubted me." Despite this, relief was clear in his own eyes. "You okay, there, buddy?" he asks, walking over to offer him a hand.

The emotions wince and close his eyes as he lets himself get pulled back onto his feet. "Enough," he says vaguely, rubbing at chest. "It's wearing off fast, now that I'm not, agh, empathizing. He's recovering," he reassures him. "But he's been hurt so bad, even your Gift's getting stretched thin. And I'm—my— _his_ body's not exactly _used_ to having your kind of regeneration, after all." He frowns, the pain finally fully fading from his expression. "A lot of it could be fixed if he'd just wake up and use his darkness..."

"S'not like we're in a rush, Captain," Ban points out, going back to his seat and leaning it back against the wall, looking out at the window. "We're already heading over to the princess as we speak. She'll fix him up easy. And besides, according to you, it's not like my Gift isn't doing anything. Relax."

"Maybe." His expression remained doubtful, however. "Still, I don't like the idea of me _—him_ being an invalid right now, the Commandments are still out there..." His gaze dropped once more to survey his counterpart critically before his expression changed into something more thoughtful. "I might have an idea," he says, putting his hand on his chest once more, brows furrowing, continuing to mutter under his breath: "I'm most of a soul missing a body, he's a body missing most of a soul. I _should_ be able to do this..."

"Y'sure you're not just gonna keel over again?" Ban asks him, looking skeptically at him over his now open bottle of Aberdeen. Despite his words, there was a thread of concern in his eyes. "Really, Captain, we're in no rush."

"I just wasn't expecting it earlier," he says reassuringly, flashing him a brief grin. "This time, I will be. Now... _Empathize."_

The initial wave of pain is as awful and disconcerting as it was before but, this time, he knows its coming so he knows to grit his teeth and endure it. He holds on and lets himself fall into it, accepting the sudden, overwhelming _physicality_ of it all as nothing more than something to be expected, Skin and bones, flesh and blood, as a soul from Purgatory, he'd lacked in all of those since he'd been ripped from his body, his own current body being nothing more than a materialization in the shape of his being. It's different, having an actual, physical body, much more _intense_ , more _real_ , and though it's definitely overwhelming, in the end, it was exactly how it should be. The pain and the pleasure, it all came together with being _alive_ and there was no reason why he should ever want to be anything less, not when it was in the world of the living that Elizabeth and the rest of the Sins could be found.

 _Meliodas_ opens his eyes.

He isn't standing over the bed anymore. Now, he was _in_ the bed, wrapped in bandages, his whole body one giant _ache_ that didn't seem to want to stop. He was no longer a disembodied soul manifested in the physical world. He was... _whole._ He was Meliodas, body and soul. He was as he should be. Or... close enough, at least. It wasn't quite right, he could feel where this Meliodas had enough of a soul to overlap with his being, feel the consciousness of the Meliodas of this time dormant under his skin, but it was still him. It just wasn't... the _right_ him, not quite.

For now, that would have to be enough.

"I haven't done _this_ in a while..."

He inhales once, deeply, relishing the feel of air entering his actual, physical lungs, holds it in until he can feel the darkness roiling in his blood, then exhales.

The demonic transformation activates with a snap of will, darkness rising from his veins to seep out of his pores and moving automatically to cover the worst of the damage even without his prompting. Without having to look, he can feel his demon mark burning on his forehead. It's been a long time _—_ _centuries,_ even _—_ since he'd been able to do this, when he was part of a body that was his own, but it was something that came as naturally as breathing. He was a demon and darkness was literally in his blood. He lets it envelop him, letting it flow into the abrasions, the burns, the broken bones, the bruises coating the entirety of his left arm _—_ then releases.

Immediately, his wounds close, his muscles reattach and repair, and his bones reset and reseal. It wasn't everything—a demon's darkness was mostly meant to enable a demon to resume battle and wasn't good for the finer details—but it was a good start. A very good start, in fact. He could already feel the still-active _Gift_ taking care of the rest.

His body _aches_ when he tries to sit up, so he doesn't, but he still manages a grin when he looks up at Ban, wide enough that his cheeks hurt a little, that small pain wonderfully pleasant. "That's the worst of it," he declares, tugging off some of the now unneeded bandaging. "Your Gift is working great, Ban!"

Who, in turn, was staring openly at him. Going by the Aberdeen now slopped over his front, he'd spat out his drink. "You're... _possessing_ yourself?"

He blinks. "I guess you can say that..." Even now, he can sort of sense him, his counterpart's consciousness, through that was deep under, through a haze of pain and darkness, a miasma that threaded throughout his being that felt alien and was cold to the touch. Somehow, it reminded the emotions of his father. "I'm just filling in. He's still pretty out of it but at least his body will recover faster like this."

It takes a mild effort to disconnect himself and when he does, he finds himself standing over Meliodas once more, the body unconscious but now looking much better-recovered. He himself felt nothing but a fading echo of a physicality he lacked as a manifested soul. "I'm pretty sure I can only do it with my— _Meliodas,_ though."

Ban whistles through his teeth. "That looked really fuckin' creepy, Captain," he comments.

"Pfft. _You're_ the one to talk, eh, Sir _Undead Ban._ "

"Kaa, I'm not _that_ kind of undead..."

Neither of them noticed the sudden flare of magic that lit up the Boar Hat from the outside, fired out by a glowing orb floating at the tavern's lookout.

* * *

It's only hours after the Gilfrost's spell orb had exploded that they finally get some semblance of calm back in Castle Liones, after Slader finally gets Griamore to stop crying, after Elizabeth was finally able to explain the situation to the _very_ concerned guards and Holy Knights who'd come running for the rooftop at the sound of the explosion, and after Escanor had been preemptively knocked out by Gowther's Blackout Arrow and sequestered off to the nearest large, empty, disposable structure, a move that King had to very quickly explain was standard procedure for them as noon drew near. By then, Gowther had returned with a (clothed) Ban in tow, Slader had left with Griamore to report to King Baltra, Elaine had fallen asleep on Chastiefol by a vigilant Elizabeth's side, and most of the other festival participants had wandered off to explore the castle. King couldn't sense any ill-intent so he let them be. This wasn't their business, it was _theirs_.

Of course, it was then, just as they'd all finally settled down to actually discuss what to do next, when what had looked like a firework while it had been streaking its way across the skies then changed course to head _straight_ at them like some kind of magical missile.

Because of _course._ _This_ was what their lives had become.

King had _Pollen Garden_ manifested around their motley council the instant he noticed it coming but, somehow, that magical bolt pierced straight through his barrier without so much as slowing, splitting at the last second into seven streaks of light, one of which headed unerringly towards the princess—

—before stopping several inches from away from the hands she'd protectively raised in front of her head, floating before her as heatless, harmless spark that resembled a tiny white star.

 _"Princess Elizabeth,"_ Merlin's voice rang out loud and clear. _"Arthur, Gowther, Hendrickson, Slader, Gilthunder."_ Everyone rushed to gather around the sparks as they came to a stop in front of the people whose names were called, with only Slader's continuing on down the stairway, save Gilfrost who only looked at them with something close to scorn. " _... and Sir Hawk. I hope my messages find you all in good condition._ _I know something happened at the fighting festival. I expected something would,"_ she adds, voice becoming wry. _"Though I certainly didn't expect to go downstairs and find_ two _captains in the Boar Hat_ —"

(Elizabeth's eyes visibly widen and, without meaning to, her hands clench tight around the table's edge. "S-Sir Meliodas is in the Boar Hat?!"

"Sounds like it," Hawk says. "Hey, that means those two really _are_ on our side! Mama would _never_ let—"

"Both of you! _Shhhh!"_ )

 _"_ — _or Ban, for that matter,"_ she continues. " _And yes, impossible as it may seem, both of them are the real thing. I can assure you of it_ —"

("I told you~" Ban drawls, looking to Gilfrost with some smugness. "I was sure of it."

Gilfrost, who'd looked sour ever since Merlin's voice had rung out, only scowls back. "We can't be sure about that," he grouses. "We don't know _anything_ about those two."

 _"You_ might not but I'd know my own best friend when I see him."

"Ban!" King looked frustrated. " _Shut up!")_

 _"—though I myself am still not sure how it happened. In any case, if any of you saw what happened, I would appreciate a full report_ _. I would ask the Captain but he_ — _the one who entered the festival_ — _is... indisposed at the moment."_

(Many flinched.)

 _"The second Captain and Ban have treated his wounds and he's in no danger but he's still recovering. For the time being, it serves my purpose to ensure that the two remain unaware of my presence_."

Then, after a brief pause, in a more reassuring voice: _"Don't worry, I'm watching over him. The Boar Hat is heading back to Liones as I speak. Meet us at the castle. We'll be arriving in a few hours. If you're already there, stay put. If not, find a way to get there as soon as you can. Stay safe. I'll see you all soon."_

The white stars flicker and fade, leaving them all staring in complete silence for the first time since the orb's explosion.

Then, finally, King is the one to break the silence.

"Well... I guess that's that."

Until Merlin arrived, they were going to have a few hours of respite.

* * *

 **So the Commandments are heartbroken, Meliodas gets attacked by his feelings post-self-care while said feelings gain possession of a fun hat trick, one Ban gives great get-well-soon presents, Merlin's ready to eavesdrop, and there's chaos at the castle. Also, unintentional music references. Fun stuff.**

 **If all goes well, next chapter ought to be up on March 8. What will be there? The most exciting part of any time travel fic...**

 **Conversations! Merlin is _fascinated_.**

 **Anyway, all feedback's much appreciated and have a nice day.**


	4. The Recovery

**Midterms had me wiped but I now have an award for my efforts!**

 **Enjoy the chapter, I hope~  
EDIT: Fixed some things.**

* * *

Back with the Boar Hat, Hawk Mama's pace had slowed, the great pig only trotting now, having tired from spending the morning running full-throttle. Still a good few hours away from Liones, upstairs, in Meliodas' bedroom-turned-sickroom, all two and an arguable half Sins present were discussing what to do next, conferring in the way they usually did, as far as these specific two were concerned: over ale and bar snacks and with much snacking in between, the two remaining surprisingly serious despite that.

"Before she sent you through, did Merlin mention anything about the 'Purgatory Witch'?" the emotions were asking. "The spell that Witch used to send us here sounded a lot like old Belialuin to me."

Ban shakes his head. "She sent me through almost immediately after I volunteered to go," he explains. "And, before all that, she only mentioned her dad and how dangerous going to Purgatory was going to be. Nothing about any Purgatory Witch. But... if it helps, the spell the Witch used didn't sound anything like the one Merlin did."

"Really?" He looked almost hesitant to ask. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "Positive. What the Witch said and what Merlin said, they're completely different. Felt different, too," he adds, looking reminiscent. "Merlin's didn't have any explosions."

"Too bad," he sighs. "Finding a way back to our own time might be easier if Merlin already knew what the Witch used."

"It might be, yeah," he agrees. "Still, it's _Merlin_ we're talking about here. Pretty sure she can find a way, spell or not."

He cracks a grin. "Of course," he says. "It could make things a _lot_ easier, though!" Then, he seemed to think of something. "Hey, do you remember the words to Merlin's spell?"

Ban looks at him blankly. "I remember it sounded like gobbledygook and nothing else. Why, is it important?"

"I might be able to compare the two," he says, shrugging. " _I_ remember the Witch's spell."

"Seriously?" That, of all things, made Ban look skeptical. "You do?"

"ị̧̡̝̼̘̰̠̋̄̽̽̈͜ w̡̨̧̳̘̥͍̠͋̇̊̅̀̂̑i̴̟͙̰̰̭͎̔͗́̍̈̾͝l̼͚̱͕̉͒͗̊͟͟͞l̢̥͇̘̺̮̰̹̝̦͑͊̌̕͝ o̡̡̬̭͔̠̳͑͊̆̀̒͢͠͡p̶͇̹͓͚̀̇̈̀͌̽͋͋͜͡ͅͅe̷͖̤̰̣̠̖̻̿̐̀́̀͋̎̚n̸͎͔̘̥̟͓͛̒͆͌͗́͐̚͠ a̤͇͔͍̺͇̲̿̍̿̎̂͟ d̳̫͉̻̠̓̀͊͊͛͟͝͡o̮͍̜̼̮̜̱͒̊̇̅́̑̿̏͜͢͞ͅò͉̲̠͇̤̗͖̲͓͌̅̉̇̌͝͞r̬͚͉̝̜̂̄̀͒̋ f̴͙̗͉̤͙̘͖̻̔̋̅͐̓̓̚͢͞o̸̢̨̠̼̫͚̘̹̝͗́̏͐̐͘͜r̸͕̠̭̪̘͈̻̍̋͌͊̓̄̑̚ y̴̻͉̪̰̯͐̅͊̒͝o̡̦̻̺̯͙͒̍̂́̏̄̌̅͠u̢̨̡̙͈̯̬̮̘͒͐̑̐͂̅͢" he recites. "It stuck out," he adds, seeing Ban's surprise. "It's been a long time since I heard anyone speaking that."

"Full of surprises as always, Captain," he comments, and though his tone is teasing, there's a note of admiration there, as well. "Well, what does it mean?"

"Something about opening a door," he says. "It's been a long time but I think that's the gist of it. Nothing about time or anything..."

"Well, we _know_ the Witch has shit-aim," he points out. "She said so herself, after all. She probably meant to send us to our time but just..." he airily waves a hand. "Shot us at the wrong time."

"I suppose," he accepts. "Time between Purgatory and the mortal world's never been all that stable. It could be worse."

"We're a month or so early," he says, tone one of agreement. "S'not too bad. If we came _late_ , we'd be _fucked."_

For better or worse, they were _very_ ahead of schedule. He still worried about the Sins, about Elizabeth, of _course,_ but the fact that they were in the past, weeks away from the terrible mess his idiot body had gotten into in the hours he'd been gone, did somewhat temper his sense of urgency on the matter. They were going to find a way back, no question about it, but, at the same time, they didn't exactly feel the need to rush. Besides, after centuries in the hellhole that was Purgatory, they damn well _earned_ a few hours of reprieve before rushing to find Merlin or some other way to get back.

"Probably, yeah! Meliodas is pretty dumb without me. He's probably already done something dumb as it is!" he says, sounding surprisingly cheerful. At the very least, he was certain his heartless body wouldn't _kill_ any of the Sins. Speaking of heartless bodies... "Better for _this_ me, too," he comments. "Dying sucks."

"Heh. You tell me, Captain, _I_ wouldn't know anything about that," Ban drawls. Then, after a moment. "I wonder why he isn't waking up."

The emotions first blink at the seeming non-sequitur before following Ban's gaze to the bed and the body still asleep on it. Despite the fact that he did genuinely appreciate the concern, he can't quite help his dry reply: "I'm going to make a wild guess and say it's because he got beat to shit, had six of his hearts destroyed, and only just started healing back from all that."

As expected, his friend grins, no offense taken. "Kaa~ No need to be so defensive about it, Captain!"

Smiling, he goes back to check on himself once more. Physically speaking, he was healing nicely, he could tell with just a cursory glance, but looking closer... "It's a good thing he's not awake yet," he realizes. "While I was _empathizing_ , I sensed something off. I've only just realized why. It's the Commandments," he explains, at Ban's inquisitive look. "He's cursed with _Piety_ and _Love."_

Ban frowns. "I know what _Love_ does," he says, eyes darkening at the memory. "Can't say the same about _Piety_. That's your little brother's, right?"

He nods. _"_ It forces anyone who turns their back on Zeldris to follow my dad and his representatives," he tells him. "It means you can't run from him. Or... _shouldn't_ ," he has to add, remembering having done just that, as this him did, back in his own time. In his defense, as the Demon King's eldest, he could _somewhat_ stave off its effects. Somewhat. "It didn't work on _me,_ now, but that's just because I don't have a real body—"

A washcloth suddenly hit him square between the eyes, whereupon it slipped down to the tip of his nose. His expression remained decidedly blank as he blew it off. The culprit looked amused. "Y'seem solid to me," he drawls.

The washcloth bounces off of Ban's chin when he lobs it back, and he spares a grin when it does. _"Solid,_ yeah, but I'm still just a soul. Look—" Before Ban could react, he drew his sword and lightly cut into his palm. It didn't bleed. Rather, the edges of the cut briefly glowed white before resealing, leaving no scar. "As far as the Commandments are concerned, I'm dead. I'm... _corporeal_ now but I'm not... _alive,_ so to speak."

He whistles. "Handy," Ban remarks. "What about me? I didn't get brainwashed and I spent the whole fight running the hell away."

"I can't be sure, but after fighting with my dad for so long, I think that you might be... well... " His voice trails off as he sat back down, looking at him as he did. Pride and regard shone clear in his eyes. It only takes Ban a second to get it, the immortal brightening at the thought. That would _definitely_ be handy if he really were _._ "Anyway, even if he does heal up, he won't be able to do much with these two on. We have to find a way to get rid of them. Other than the... _intended_ ways, anyway."

"Yeah, I didn't work my ass off to save his life just to end it," he agrees. "And going against both of your brothers again'd be suicide, even for you. Especially _right now,"_ he says, indicating the stump.

"Even without getting brainwashed, yeah." He crosses his arms, thinking. "This is going to be tough..."

Ban thinks for a moment. "Well, Merlin broke _Truth_ on herself," he says, at last. "She could probably do something. What?" he has to ask, seeing his skeptic expression.

"It took her ages to break it! Besides, they're not hunting for her the way they are me." He didn't dismiss the possibility, however. "Anyway, _Piety_ won't make it easy. We're going to have some real problems getting him _anywhere_ if he wakes up under their control."

"Huh..." Ban looks thoughtful again for a moment before just shaking his head. "Weeeell, we'll think of something! Hey," he adds, seeing his skeptical expression. "If we can find a different way outta Purgatory without your dad knowing, we can handle bits of his old magic. We'll figure something out."

"... you sure sound optimistic given that we _also_ landed at a pretty bad time with no way home."

"Details, details~" he says dismissively, and he says it with such a straight face that the emotions can't help but crack up.

" _Suuure,_ that's _definitely_ just a minor a detail. Just like my dad making the Commandments to be... unbreakable..." His voice trails off and he looks thoughtful. "I wonder..."

Ban smirks, almost knowing. "See?" he drawls. "You've thought of something already."

"Kind of," he says, shaking his head. "I've never done this before but... in theory, it might work..."

Ban leans back against his chair, arms crossed. "Spill it. Whatcha thinking?"

"I... _might_ be able to use my Counter to get rid of them."

"... Explain."

"Have I ever told you how my magic works?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Look, Full Counter can only affect something's magnitude and direction. That's why, no matter how strong a magic attack is, I can always reflect it; I'm not trying to overpower it, I'm just changing where it's going and how strong it is—or isn't, if I'm using Counter Vanish. So while I can't _attack_ with it, I can affect any kind of magic attack, even without—" he waves airily down at himself. "Even _without_ a body, my Full Counter's still as effective as ever."

Ban looks understanding. "I think I can see where you're getting at. Counter Vanish, right?"

He nods. "Pretty much. Normally, using Counter Vanish gets harder the older the spell is so I've never tried it on a curse before but... the Commandments are all just old pieces of dad's powers and after facing the real deal all those years, I do know what to look for. I'm sure I can do _something_ about them..."

He walks over to place a palm on his counterpart's chest once more, eyes sliding shut as he reached out to the cold he had felt when he'd briefly occupied the body, that distinctly foreign darkness threading through him, not quite _empathizing_ but certainly keeping an open mind. Ordinarily, with newly-fired attacks, he can see what keeps them together as clear as day but here—if he didn't know what to look for, he's not sure he would've found it. But he does, so he finds it almost immediately.

Surprisingly enough—

"... he's resisting really hard," he comments, smiling. "Nishishi! I should've known. Well, well, well, this ought to make things easier! Now..."

He grasps at that cold power. It was a power that was unmistakable, inevitable, _unbreakable,_ and, above all, it was a power he _already knew_ he could Counter from decades in Purgatory fighting against his father wielding it in its entirety. Compared to _that_ , this was nothing but a pale shadow of a fragment, less than even a _scrap._ Compared to what he's done in the thousands of futile battles before, _this_ —

This was nothing more than untying a knot.

 _"Disobedience,"_ he says, almost without meaning to, eyes flashing open as he finally felt the magic _give,_ clenching it within his fist and pulling slowly upward, ignoring how the freezing magic lashed and crackled malevolently against his skin, invisible to the eye but painful all the same, struggling harder and harder the farther he pulled it away from himself, preparing his own magic in response. " _Counter Vanish!"_

His power left him with a resounding chime, then a sound like a _SNAP!_ as a dark miasma seeped out of his counterpart's pores, spreading briefly through the air before dissipating into nothing, minimized, anchorless, and harmless in the aftermath of the impromptu spell. His counterpart hadn't moved once since he'd began but, somehow, his breathing sounded easier, now.

Though his Counters normally used very little energy, he felt _exhausted_ and the hand he'd used _stings._ He doesn't care, starting to sense for them once more. However... "I can't sense any Commandments anymore..." he murmurs, before finally grinning. "I did it! Heh, guess it all paid off!"

Ban was _staring,_ wide-eyed, before breaking out laughing, himself. "Frickin' _hell_ , Captain, that's an understatement if I ever heard one!"

"Indeed, _"_ an unexpected voice rang out, feminine, curious, and _very_ familiar, making the emotions freeze. "That is a _very_ useful trick you've learned there, _Captain_."

Very slowly, very cautiously, he turns to follow the sound, Ban following his lead, his own expression amused and unsurprised.

"I was wondering how long you were planning on eavesdropping," he drawls. "It's pretty rude of you, ya know~"

Around a familiar, teal orb was the semi-translucent form of a seemingly-young girl in a breezy dress, a familiar dark-haired figure who watched them both with intent, interested eyes. A surprised smirk appeared on her face at Ban's words.

The emotions, in turn, were honestly just surprised to see her.

"Merlin...?"

* * *

Before coming down here, Merlin had no idea how the two would react to her presence and, as such, she'd made quite a few preparations before deciding to reveal herself. Aside from verifying the safety of their still-absent travelling companions and sending them messages, she'd prepared a good number of magic items in case the two showed hostility, including a few that would ensure the injured Captain's safety in the event of a fight. While her instincts did tell her they were more-or-less trustworthy, she wasn't willing to take any chances. Given the amount of effort it took simply maintaining the spell keeping her soul bound to Aldan, her combat magic was frustratingly limited at the moment. If her appearance triggered any sort of violent confrontation, it would be... _undesirable,_ to say the least. So, for a while, she'd been perfectly content with just listening in to their conversation. Their incredibly _fascinating_ conversation.

However, their conversation, informative as it was, was nowhere near as tempting as the chance to have _Truth_ broken. She hadn't quite been willing to take the chance before, but she certainly was now.

Of course, she still wasn't quite sure how these apparent visitors (from the future!) would react. While they seemed to speak of her as they always did, it wasn't certain that they wouldn't be at least a little wary of her. She expected suspicions, perhaps exasperation for her eavesdropping. She expected questions, demands, and even just a little hostility, and she'd prepared accordingly for all of that.

What she certainly didn't expect was for the second Captain to actually _cry._

But he _was._ There were tears welling up in his big green eyes and rolling down his cheeks even as he forcibly scrubbed them off of his face, his features set in a huge, brilliant smile as he began to laugh. He was laughing as he cried and trying to hide it as he did.

"M-Merlin! It's _you!_ It's really you! Y-you're _here!_ "

There was a genuine joy in his expression as he looked at her and there was a hitch in his voice, even as he laughed, sounding he was trying not to outright _bawl_ from the sheer happiness of it all. While the Captain as she knew him was always ready with a smile and insouciant, seemingly unflappable cheer, he was also guarded, unreadable. In clear, marked contrast, this one's every feeling was all but written on his face. He practically _radiated_ affection and his smile was warm, summery, and without guile.

Merlin had prepared for a _lot_ of eventualities before she'd entered the room

But she had _no_ idea how to react to _this._

He seemed to notice her reticence—despite her only being a soul in an orb, he noticed her reticence. "I'm s-sorry, M-Merlin. I'm just—"

"Just a huge crybaby, right~?" Ban pulled him over in a rough sort of sideways hug, grinning widely. He didn't seem surprised at the Captain's quite frankly odd behavior, only fond, seeming just as relaxed as he had been when she'd made her presence known. "'Eeeeey, Merlin," Ban greets her, his usual smirk on his face. "Long time, no see~"

She manages to recover some of her trademark poise. "Indeed," she allows. With a mild effort of will, she manifests an illusion in the shape of herself as she usually appeared, something to mirror her thoughts in actions. Neither seem surprised she does so. "... or at least that was the case with the Ban of this time," she says, her illusion looking him in the eye. He didn't seem at all surprised that she knew, she notes. "Though _he_ — _"_ she tilts her head, indicating the unconscious body lying in the bed. " _I_ know is the Captain as I last saw him. _You_ are...?"

"I'm his emotions," the second Captain answers... while sniffling, wiping at his face with his hands as he disentangled himself from Ban's headlock-hug. "His soul, kind of. Th-the part that lets him feel emotions, a-at least. His heart. Ban saved me from Purgatory. I-I'm sorry," he breaks off, words coming out half a laugh, looking at her with a smile that was equal parts overjoyed and disbelieving. "I just—I didn't expect to see you and I-I've really missed you! I thought I'd never—I completely gave up while I was in Purgatory, I thought I'd never see you or Elizabeth or Ban or any of the rest of the Sins ever again. I'm just... so happy to see you!"

... _oh._

She softens.

"I'm... happy to see you like this, too, Captain," she admits, and, truly, it's been millennia, almost dating back to when they'd met, before he'd been cursed. They'd never been a likely pair and there'd definitely been centuries when they'd been less than trusting of each other but, damn it all, they were friends. Even knowing all that they did about each other, they were still friends. In some ways, she trusted him more than anyone else. And now, despite knowing full well how old he truly was, despite having known of him since she'd been a genuinely young girl herself, she couldn't help but find the sight of him teary-eyed and emotional oddly endearing. She'd never thought herself a motherly sort (at least, not until she'd met Arthur and, even then, _only_ for Arthur) but, somehow, she almost wanted to take this now seeming-child and give him a hug—which, she had to admit, was a reaction she wanted to study later but that wasn't the point.

"It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?" she has to ask, and his shoulders shake with mirth even as he very quickly covered his face as he scrubbed at it, first with his hands, then with a clean washcloth Ban wordlessly passed him. "It must've been difficult."

"Y-yeah," he says quietly when he's done, looking at her with a soft, sad little smile. Then his eyes brighten and he beams. "But it's going to be easier, now that _you're_ here!"

She smiles back. It's impossible not to. "Indeed," she says. "Whatever it is you need, I will do everything in my power to assist you."

This time, it's Ban who grins. "That's good," he drawls. "We're gonna need a looot of help, if you didn't hear."

She smirks. "You're a pair of time travelers from the future, sent here through the terrible aim of an entity you call the 'Purgatory Witch' during your escape from Purgatory, trying to get back to your own time," she recounts. "I suppose you will." Then she looks at Ban consideringly. "Hmmm... let me have a look at you, first."

He blinks. "Ehh? Merlin, what are you—"

She murmurs a brief incantation and Aldan zooms to float overtop his head. The illusion in her form remained in its position standing by the doorway, smiling her trademark suspicious smile, as her sacred treasure shot a beam that engulfed the Fox's Sin in azure light, making him flinch and shoot her a glare.

"Would it kill you to give a guy more of a warning, Merlin?" he complains. "Ugh, it _itches_ _."_

The Captain, or his emotions, rather, only watches impassively from his seat. "Been a while since I saw magic like that," he comments. "So?"

Merlin couldn't stop herself from staring. "Fascinating... " she murmurs. "By the looks of things, time... time itself doesn't _want_ you to be here."

Having gotten the results she wanted, she breaks the scanning spell, Aldan returning to its former place by her illusion's side. Ban lets out a long sigh as she does this, shooting her a baleful glare at her as he rubbed at his neck. "Well, we don't want to _be_ here either," he mutters.

"Do you think you can do something about it?" the second Captain prompts.

She considers it, going over the sense of _chronal m_ _isplacement_ her spell had picked up lingering around the immortal, her arsenal of spells and rituals, and even some old texts she only half-remembered from before Belialuin had been laid to waste, before beginning to smirk. Perhaps a variant of teleportation or apportation, using the misplaced time lingering around him as an anchor to create the link, perhaps using her father's own old Purgatory sending spell as a base... "I have some ideas," she says slowly. "It will take some time to gather all the things I need, however, and I will need to run a few tests before I can make the attempt. You may be stuck here for the next few days. Weeks even."

"That long?" Ban can't help asking.

"Not to worry, Ban," she reassures him. "This magic relates to _time._ So long as my theory is correct, I should be able to send you to the exact point in time in which you _should've_ been sent. If my spell works as intended, it will be as if you spent no time here at all."

"And we're going to be your guinea pigs for when you're testing to see if it works." However, in contrast, the second Captain looked more or less accepting. "Well... I suppose it won't be too bad," he accepts. "As long as you bring us to the right time, I guess it won't matter how long we end up staying here."

"That's the spirit," she says, with a slight chuckle. "Not to worry, Ban," she says, noting his skeptical look. "As you're well aware, my aim is excellent."

"Aren't you humble?" he snarks. His expression does clear, however. "Alright. I'll trust you."

"However..." she then says, a low smirk. "What you're asking is going to be a _very_ difficult act of spellcraft. I'm happy to assist you, of course, but there _is_ something I want in exchange..."

While Ban looked a little incredulous, the second Captain only looked amused. "Now, _there's_ the Merlin I remember," he remarks fondly. "What do you want?"

She bends to look him full in the eye. "I want you to break the Commandment on me," she says. "I've seen you break _Love_ and _Piety_ on yourself. It should be simple, no? Isn't this a fair deal?"

He blinks once before bobbing a nod, a smile gracing his face.

"Yeesh, way to make it sound all ominous, Merlin," Ban drawls from the sidelines. "The Captain'll be happy to help ya out with that."

"I don't recall asking you," she says, though her words were belied by the playful smile on her face. "Well, Captain?"

He flashes her his sunny grin. It's honestly impossible not to smile back with this one, she reflects, this soul her Captain had lost. "I'd be happy to! Just... give me some time. It, uh, stung." Seemingly without meaning to, he rubbed at the palm of the hand he'd used earlier. "Let me just catch my breath for a while."

"Very well," she acquiesces, moving back, illusion moving to sit on the foot of the bed. "Until then, we have much to talk about. You're both from the future, from what I heard—"

"Eavesdropped," Ban interjects.

"—I'm sure you have plenty of _interesting_ information to share," she finishes. "Well?"

The second Captain looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Plenty. We're not—it's not the same anymore, what happened in our time and what's happening here. We... changed a lot of things when we got here. We didn't mean to," he adds, probably seeing the look on her face—or her illusion's, rather. "But we did. The biggest difference is... well..." his gaze drops down to his unconscious counterpart, and the realization makes Merlin feel cold despite herself.

"You died," she says softly. "In your time."

It should've been obvious but it takes her by surprise, regardless. Even knowing he would come back, even knowing he _always_ came back eventually, it never made it any easier when he did. Even though she knew, logically, it was only ever going to be temporary, part of her couldn't help but mourn the loss whenever it happened.

He nods. "Estarossa," he says, by way of explanation. "This time— _here,_ Ban got me out but back in our time..."

"I failed."

Both of them turn to see Ban glaring down at his hands, eyes sharp and bright with a remembered grief that made something pang in her chest. "I couldn't do _anything._ All I could do was _watch_ until..." His hands clench into fists. "I was useless."

Merlin closes her eyes and looks down. "... I see." She had, too, once. It hadn't been easy. Even knowing he'd return eventually, she'd still grieved. It had to have been worse for him, given _he_ didn't know yet at this time.

The emotions look at him once, his expression searching, before leaning over and knocking him lightly on the head. "What are you talking about?" he says, sounding honestly quite confused. "You saved me now, didn't you?"

Ban looks at him from the corner of his eye before slowly starting to smile. "Guess I did, yeah," he says quietly. "Anyway, you wanted to know what happened, right? Well... Britannia went straight to hell. The demons went all out after the Captain... yeah. It was a fuckin' mess."

"I can certainly imagine they would be emboldened after the Captain's demise," she says. "It would've increased morale, at the very least, to feel that they'd achieved the first of their vengeance."

Ban snorts. "That's one way to put it," he says quietly. "About a month after around now, the Commandments launched a full-scale attack on Liones. We drove 'em off," he adds, slightly more spirited now. "After Escanor smashed that bastard, Estarossa, out of the kingdom, after _you_ come flying in from out of nowhere to down Grayroad before she could turn us all into eggs, and after _this_ guy—" he leans over to flick the second Captain's cowlicks, making him huff a short, surprised laugh. "—Appears out of nowhere to pulverize that demon possessing Dreyfus."

"Fraudrin," the second Captain interjects, to which Ban waves an airy hand.

"Yeah, him. No idea how Dreyfus got himself unpossessed, come to think of it, but—"

"That was because of Zaratras," the emotions interrupt. "He came back from the dead for a while. It's a... long story."

Merlin, who'd been silent ever since Ban had begun to narrate the events, has to laugh. "I'd gathered," she says wryly. "You've barely started, I take it?"

"Barely the tip of the iceberg," Ban confirms. "And it's a biiig iceberg."

"Is there anything specific you want to know about?" the emotions prompt.

"Well, while I want to know _everything..._ I am rather curious about why it is that _Ban_ was in Purgatory in the first place. I know why _you_ would," she says, looking to him somewhat apologetically. "However..."

"I came to get him out," Ban answers. "The Princess had less than three days left and the Cap'n, he—"

"Wait," Merlin has to interrupt, looking interested. "You know about—?"

"They all know," the emotions confirm. "About Elizabeth, about the curses... everything."

She stares at him. "You told them?" she asks, disbelieving. At no point in all the time she's known him has he ever been the one to volunteer that information. To _anyone._

He looks down. "... No. She remembered. It's why I _—Meliodas_ went berserk, used _Assault Mode..._ cast me out. That's not even the half of it," he says, almost smiling, though there was a clear discomfort in his eyes. "We'll tell you all about it."

"By the way..." came the interruption, making them both turn to look at Ban, who was now looking at her with naked curiosity. "Didja really used to call the Princess _'Big Sis Sis'_?"

"We are not talking about me," was her _very_ hasty reply, just as the emotions nod.

"She did," his friend confirms, grinning genuinely once more. Merlin gives him a _look_ but neither pay it any heed. "In fact, one time, she called _me_ —"

"We are _not_ talking about my past, we are talking about your future," she very loudly cuts in, looking actually quite embarrassed. "The future we are going to avert."

He grins, cheeky. "If you say so, Merlin," he says, sounding cheerful again.

Ban stands, stretches. "Weeeell, I dunno about you guys but if we're really gonna have to go over all of this, I don't wanna do it hungry. I'm gonna go fix us some grub. Got any requests?"

"If you're cooking, anything's fine," he replies.

"Until my body is restored, I won't be able to eat," she points out. "I've no preference. However, with this time's Captain in his current condition, I'd suggest something easy on the stomach for when he wakes."

He nods. "Right, riiight..." He slouches out of the room. "Don't start story-telling without me, y'hear? I won't take too long."

"Sure."

"Of course," she says. Then she realizes something and has to smile as she watches him go down the stairs, whistling as he did. "Sly fox..."

Somehow, she knew the emotions knew what she was talking about. "He's a great friend," he remarks, smiling. Then, after a moment: "Hey, ̶̙͈̳̱̱͇̰̀̒̍̀͝͝ ̵̡̟̲͇̤͓͍̟̭͕̑͌̀̉̅̚ ̛̹͎̖̩͙̟̼̇̍̐̚͢ ̵̝̜̲̗̖͌͋͐̋͜͠͠ ̴̥̜̺̻̹̟̖̲̪͓̄̔̋̈͂̚...?"

It's been such a long time, the sound of her own name actually startles her. She certainly hasn't been called that in a while... "Yes?"

"I'm happy to break _Truth_ on you, course, but before that..." The second Captain was studying her expression intently. "... remember who you are," he finishes, grinning cheekily. "Alright?"

What in the world did he—

 _Oh._

She could've slapped herself. All that time researching how to break a Commandment curse and the answer was staring her right in the face every time she looked in the mirror!

"... I'm going, as well," she grits out, giving him a _look._ "I'll be back as _soon_ as I'm done."

The second Captain had an absolutely _shit-eating_ grin on his face. "See ya, ̶̙͈̳̱̱͇̰̀̒̍̀͝͝ ̵̡̟̲͇̤͓͍̟̭͕̑͌̀̉̅̚ ̛̹͎̖̩͙̟̼̇̍̐̚͢ ̵̝̜̲̗̖͌͋͐̋͜͠͠ ̴̥̜̺̻̹̟̖̲̪͓̄̔̋̈͂̚.," he says overly casually, his youthful face set in an expression of gleeful, absolutely _punchable_ innocence. "Goood luck!"

That bastard...

* * *

Dusk had fallen over the grounds of Camelot once more by the time they'd all arrived and settled themselves down to rest. Zeldris, for his part, couldn't help but feel some measure of relief as he saw the sun finally set. Regardless of who or what may arrive, whatever intruders may come again, with the coming of the night, all demons would be at their strongest. And while, before, that would've also meant they'd have his brother to be wary about, given how badly he'd been defeated, Zeldris was confident they wouldn't have to worry about him for a long time. It wasn't quite the vengeance they desired but, for now, that would have to be enough.

It had to be, he tells himself again as he enters Peronia's designated medical facility. This was not the time to lose himself in rage and bloodthirst—regardless of how much his wretched, traitorous brother deserved it, they had to remain cautious...

Their medical facility was an enormous, circular chamber that must've once been intended as a ballroom, with a balcony that once led out to a gorgeous view of the gardens below. Now, its dance floor was dotted with healing pods of every shape and size as Peronia herself flitted about, and the balcony now only provided a view of Drole's gigantic cocoon of a healing pod nestled in the grounds below. Zeldris makes his way over to one healing pod in particular, a medium-sized one not much bigger than his own had been, settling down to wait as he notes its inhabitant beginning to stir within.

His wait ends a scant few minutes later. "How long will it be until you regain use of the Moon Rose?" he asks of Gloxinia once the rejuvenated Fairy King finally emerged from the pod. "Its healing power could be indispensable in the battles to come."

"Hmm? Oh, Zeldris..." He yawns and stretches first, shaking off some of the healing fluid that had clung to his skin, before drawing his spirit spear, manifesting its _Moon Rose_ form at his feet so that its bloom was at his face. "Not for a long while," Gloxinia sighs, examining Basquias' stigma with critical eyes before returning it to its usual _Emerald Octo_ form and wrapping it protectively around him. "I've used up all the drops I'd stored. In a month, I might have one or two back but until then, I won't have any healing powers."

"It was necessary," came the unexpected rumble of an interruption. It was Drole, emerging fresh from his healing pod himself, the Giant King finally looking fully recovered as he loomed over them from his place outside the castle, face only barely fitting through the entryway of the balcony. "If he hadn't used it as he did, we would've both been defeated long before your arrival."

"I understand. I would've done as you had," he assures him, waving him down until he seemed mollified. "Holding back against my brother would've been a death sentence against anyone, even myself. Your tenacity truly is admirable. It's just a shame."

Then his eyes harden.

"But it's no matter," he continues. "We have already proven ourselves able to defeat him. Once we're all recovered, we'll resume our pursuit of vengeance. It won't be long then."

"Yeah..." Gloxinia says, sounding somewhat subdued. "It won't be long, once we all move out. He's at death's door as it is..."

Drole only closes his eye and nods.

"In the meantime," Zeldris begins. "We might as well send out more troops to gather more souls for us, while we're recovering. I'll have Estarossa start mutating more troops for us on the morrow. Grayroad, as well, once she recovers."

Although her condition wasn't anywhere near as bad as Melascula's, Peronia had recommended that she stay in a more intensive healing pod and Zeldris saw no reason to disagree. Given her Commandment, she was unused to actual combat, to actually risking death, and so the loss of two hearts coupled with the pain of having been nearly torn apart had taken a toll on her. It was regrettable but understandable.

The two trade glances. "And what about us two _,_ Zeldris?" Gloxinia asks. _"We're_ fine now. Shall we gather souls for the rest of you..?"

His eyes flash. "No," he barks. "That's exactly what he and his allies want! We've already seen through his game. Meliodas wants to pick us off one or two at a time before we've fully recovered our strength, while he and his allies are already at full power. Your experience at Vaizel stands as a testament to that." The two look on at him warily and he heaves a sigh, almost apologetic, before continuing:

"We will stay together," he says decisively. "We will continue our takeover of Britannia, our harvest of the races, but we will do so as one. We will need all of our strength to defeat him and whatever allies he has once and for all before we can take this world. Who knows how many more allies he has..."

He thinks to the arrival of the unexpected visitors—the _other_ Meliodas, unmistakably his brother and not just some clone or impostor but the real thing, even while... somehow, missing something, _complete,_ and the other version of the man Estarossa had slain in the aftermath of their escape. The Fox's Sin of Greed, Ban, Fraudrin had called him. While the one Estarossa had put down had been moderately strong by standards of the other races, the one that had escaped was on a different level entirely. And, for some reason, even though he'd _run_ from him, he'd remained unaffected by _Piety_. He'd stood and breathed the same air and yet the magic of the Commandment simply... couldn't _stick_. Yet, he didn't seem to carry any trace of the Supreme Deity's protection. If anything, he somehow reeked of the air of _Purgatory_ , of all places, and his aura was touched with darkness. Not a demon's natural darkness but... a _miasma_ , of sorts, one that, oddly enough, reminded Zeldris of his _father,_ the Demon King.

If he didn't know any better, if he didn't know it was _impossible,_ he would've thought he'd somehow acquired some kind of resistance against his father's powers...

How very interesting.

They would have to be careful, but he knew they would prevail, against him and any other allies his damnable brother may have. If he had to, he would hunt him down himself. Him and anyone else who dared interfere.

His eyes burn black.

"We will not be reckless in this endeavor. We have to be careful but once we're all recovered, we will get our revenge. That much is certain."

"Of course," Gloxinia murmurs. His hands were fists at his sides. "He'll get what he deserves for siding with the enemy."

"We will have our justice," Drole agrees. "I can see it now."

He smirks. "Hmph. Of course," he says. Then: "For the time being, you two might as well get some more rest," he tells them. Despite the informal words, his tone still carried a note of clear, commanding dismissal. "I might have you create golems to help with the collection of souls, once I have Estarossa finish his mutations. Until then, you may as well recover more of your strength."

Gloxinia bobs a nod, looking almost distracted. "Certainly."

Drole shoots him a look but follows suit after looking to Gloxinia, as he usually did when his friend was concerned. "... Understood."

They both leave his sight, Gloxinia leaving out through the balcony to follow Drole, likely to the Giant King's own quarters underground. For a few moments, that left Zeldris standing alone, the only Commandment awake in the medical facility. "Once we're all recovered..." he repeats to himself. "Hah."

Without quite meaning to, he looks to where his own healing pod had been, rubbing at the new starburst of scar-flesh on his chest where it was stark against his otherwise unmarred skin, a wound even Peronia's best efforts couldn't fully heal. Even sealed back with his darkness, he can feel the _lack_ where one of his hearts had once been. No longer. In the immediate scuffle that followed those... _strangers'_ arrival, he'd been taken off-guard. Even now, he can remember that shock and pain as that attack had torn through him, ripping a heart from his chest, though even that had paled in comparison to the absolute _agony_ he'd felt at its destruction in the inferno.

Yet even _that_ paled in comparison to the knowledge of how useless he'd been at Vaizel because of it. He could've used _God_ from the start, nullified the intruder's repulsive ability to begin with, but he did not. In the immediate aftermath of getting one of his hearts ripped out of his chest, in the pain of its absence, he'd panicked, frozen, moreso after his heart's destruction. He'd been less than _useless_ in that fight.

He wasn't going to make that mistake again, he'd make sure of it. He knew his tricks now, that human his brother had managed to fool into thinking him a friend. He knew better now. They'd lost much in the following fight (because of _his_ mistake), from losing their vengeance when it was right within sight, to Melascula's worsened condition, but they at least learned from the scuffle. They would be taken by surprise no longer, not by his brother, not by _anyone._

His hand clenches into a fist over where the heart had been and feels as his other hearts beat strong and steady in his chest.

At the end of the day, he still had six hearts left. Meliodas only had one remaining.

His death was at hand. They would make sure of it.

* * *

When Ban comes back, it's just in time to see the emotions declare "Yep, all six hearts are back in perfect condition!" just before he broke off the empathetic connection, examining the still-healing body before him with critical eyes. He really was looking a lot better, Ban noticed with some relief, with even the stump of his arm starting to finally grow back. "Your regeneration sure is handy," the emotions tell him, without bothering to actually look in his direction. "Is food ready yet?"

"Give it time," he drawls. He hadn't gone for anything fancy, just a light bone broth, a quick batch of biscuits, and some meat pasties, but it still needed about half an hour to fully cook; their first real dinner back was going to be a _feast_ if he had anything to say about it. "Good food takes time, Captain. _Your_ cooking always tastes like crap 'cause you never wait." He takes his seat again before looking around. "Hey, where'd Merlin go?"

"Oh, she just went up to sort some things out," he answers, with a conspiratorial little grin. "She'll be back in a few."

He shoots him a look before just sighing. "...Right." Then, after a brief glance-over: "Captain, d'you need any healing?"

He blinks. "... Why would I?"

"I saw you earlier. Didn't look like breaking that Commandment curse was easy on you."

He rubs at his palm consideringly before shaking his head. "I'm fine," he says, and by the fuckin' _stars_ does he ever want to throttle him whenever he says that. "Really," he adds, probably seeing his expression. "Just a bit tired, maybe."

"Take it easy," he urges him. "We've already got one Cap'n out of commission, we don't need _two."_

"Yeah, yeah," he says, with a roll his eyes. He obliges, however, walking back to his seat and settling down with a long sigh. "Won't be long, now."

"Maybe two or three hours," he agrees. "Heh, maybe we ought to prepare drinks for 'em. Could be nice to have a little reunion party."

He looks skeptical. "Not that it's a reunion for _them,_ exactly..."

That wasn't a no, though. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind toasting your good health, now that you're on the mend," he says airily. "'Cause I gotta tell you, it was fuckin' awful having to watch you die, back in our time. I'm sure _I'd_ celebrate, seeing you all better."

"I think the stump says otherwise on him being 'all better'..." He glances toward his body. "On the mend, yeah, but..."

They freeze.

Faintly, very faintly, the body on the bed was starting to stir.

* * *

It's through a head filled with cotton balls and a throat filled with broken glass that Meliodas realizes he isn't dead.

He knows he _should_ be, but he's not.

Instead, he's in his own bed, tucked into his own sheets, the familiar, comforting smells of the Boar Hat sharply undercut by the sterile smell of antiseptic. His whole body _aches_ something awful but it's a pain that tells him that he's recovering, that he hasn't _died._ Whenever he's reawakened after being resurrected, it's always been in physically perfect condition. Right now, he _hurts,_ and he not even doing anything, just lying in bed, and he feels so tired, he just wants to go back to sleep and sink into oblivion all over again. Even just _breathing_ hurt. But, somehow, he isn't dead. He remembers lying powerless as Estarossa snapped each of his ribs underfoot. He remembers his idiot best friend trying to save him. He remembers getting executed, the compounding _agony_ as his brother destroyed one heart after another, all without a trace of hate.

But, somehow, he stayed alive. Somehow, he can feel all _seven_ of his hearts beating in his chest. Somehow... he's _here._

"I'm..." he tries, almost as an experiment. His mouth was parched and the mere exhalation made his ribs throb in protest. "Alive...?"

"Yep."

Only then does he notice that he isn't alone. There are two people staring at him from across the room, seated at his tea table, expectant eyes relieved:

Ban, nursing a full beer stein, looking on at him with a familiar grin

And—

... _himself._

He blinks

Rubs at his eyes

Then sharply pinches his thigh.

Despite all of that

Despite how his arm _protests_ every single movement

He doesn't wake up

Because he's not dreaming.

 _How was this not a dream?_

"So!"

Ban jabs his thumbs at his chest, grinning. "I'm Ban, from the future."

"And I'm your emotions!" The _him_ next to him declares. "... also from the future."

"And from Purgatory, can't forget that," Ban adds. "Picked ya up myself."

"We weren't planning on going here but."

"The Purgatory Witch had terrible aim," they finish as one.

Confused, aching, and very, _very_ certain he should be dead right now, Meliodas only had one thing to say:

"... what?"

* * *

 **Fun fact, it was another fifteen minutes before he woke up. If asked, those two'll say that they didn't rehearse that during the wait. They're liars. And trolls. One resistant, the other, disobedient.**

 **(Non-canon abilities, I know, but... sensical ones, I think)**

 **Ideally, I'll finish the next chapter by March 22. Look forward, if you will. T'should have more Liones. Maybe even an explosion or two.**

 **So, was this good? Bad? Fun, at least? All feedback's appreciated. Have a great day!**


	5. The Restless

**I'm so sorry for the delay, something came up last minute and I ended up spending most of the past two days away from computers. Anyway, I didn't have that much time this past couple of weeks and I hit a series of blocks writing this but, in the end, I'm satisfied and here we are. Enjoy, I hope!**

 **EDIT: Fixed some** **typos**

* * *

Needless to say, it was a very, _v_ _ery_ long story.

If there was _one_ good thing about his current condition, it's the fact that he could barely move without crippling pain. If he _could,_ he's not sure he could've stopped himself from leaping at someone's throat at least once. Everything about the situation was just so surreal, he almost doesn't _want_ to believe it, but whenever he so much as tries to consider the possibility that they were only lying, both his self-proclaimed emotions and that Ban from the future, something about the look in his double's eyes just quells those thoughts before they could fester, as was the case for the _relief_ in Ban's voice whenever he spoke. They were _exactly_ who they claimed they were, regardless of how unbelievable it had seemed.

In Ban's case—it was given that he'd know it was really him. Never mind the new clothes or the _magnitude_ of his presence, he'd recognize his best friend any time, anywhere, and because they were best friends, he was _always_ willing to believe him.

As for his self-proclaimed emotions... there was just something about his eyes, something _raw_ , somehow simultaneously unsettling and reassuring, that made him believe him. Somehow, he could just _feel_ it in his bones, the honesty of him. He believed him. He doesn't understand _why,_ but he does.

And because he does, he listens to their story.

It bears repeating that their story really was ungodly _long_.

The thing was... he _thought_ he knew what he was getting into when he'd entered that festival, when he'd finally stood against Drole and Gloxinia, when he'd faced against the rest of the Commandments as they arrived on the scene. Dying at the hands of the Commandments—it would've been unfortunate and all, but it was a setback he'd always known could happen and, for better or worse, he knew he'd come back eventually. But _this?_

Ban coming to save him, that wasn't completely unexpected. He was his best friend, he knew he'd try to save him if he could, and damn the consequences if he couldn't. Even knowing that Ban didn't logically stand much of a chance against the bulk of the Commandments by himself, it was something he couldn't help but be touched by, even with his own emotions as diminished as they were, something he couldn't help but appreciate when all was said and done.

A Ban from the _future_ coming to save him, with the help of Meliodas' own emotions in a physical form, entering through a gate opened from _Purgatory_ to take him from almost literally under the Commandments' feet, however?

Putting it very, _very_ mildly, that was less than expected.

The whole _saga_ about Purgatory itself just felt unbelievable to him. He'd always known what his curse entailed, how his father intended to have him be that hollow shell once more but—somehow, he never really thought it was going to be so _soon,_ that a scant month or so later, he'd have become _that_ all over again. And to hear exactly _how_ it had been done, and about the things he himself had done the moment he'd woken after he'd lost all of his emotions, it had all just been...

He'd like to say it was all unbelievable but he could see it all happening with frightening clarity.

("Would it even have stopped you? Knowing you'd lose all of them?" his emotions had asked rhetorically, to which he couldn't help but drop his gaze, unable to meet those hollow eyes. "... I understand _why,_ of course I do," he had hastened to add. "But... you know... try not to, here."

"I'll... try not to," he had promised, but even then, he had known that everyone there knew exactly how much his word was worth. "I don't ever want to go back to being _that.")_

What he'd apparently done after losing his emotions hadn't been easy to accept either...

(" _Honestly_! Five seconds without a heart and you go disband the Sins, claim the Commandments, and try to become the Demon King, you complete heartless _dumbass."_ )

... though truth be told, he could definitely see the bastard he used to be doing something like that. He only hopes Elizabeth was still alright, back in that future—he knows _he'd_ never hurt her now but back then... he really can't be sure. With her memories and powers fully awakened, she should at least be more than able to defend herself against anything he could throw at her... even if the fact that her remembering everything was what led to that mess in the first place.

Even the story leading up to it, from the time when his emotions had first been fully ejected up to just before Ban had finally set out for Purgatory, had twists that, despite it all, surprised even his counterpart... to both their grief. When he hears about Drole and Gloxinia, about how they'd stood up to protect his idiotic, unconscious self from Chandler, about how they wanted to atone for betraying him (when they _didn't_ , unwittingly or not, he _abandoned_ them and he deserved every hurt they doled out and _more),_ about how they'd declared him and Elizabeth their best friends in the moment before they died, about how Elaine had heard, in their hearts, that they thought of them in the end and wished they'd both find happiness...

It hadn't been easy.

And it never got any easier to hear, that long damned story. When his emotions narrate of how he'd spent centuries and centuries in Purgatory, kept in captivity by his _useless, awful_ Dad, only to eventually despair, _degrade,_ and get tossed aside, though his double'd done what he could to make his voice sound matter-of-fact, there'd been this absolutely _haunted_ look in his eyes that just made him feel cold inside. He'd never really thought of it in-depth, what it had to be like for his emotions each time he died, each time he'd _tried_ to die, but seeing how he'd looked when he'd told of it, he could imagine it almost all too well...

Ban's part in the narrative after came as an honest relief, though he could tell that, despite how Ban himself kept underplaying his own struggles, those couldn't have been easy for him, either. For at least two hundred years, Ban had more-or-less aimlessly wandered the endless, paradoxical hellscape that was Purgatory, looking for his emotions all on his own—despite not even _knowing_ what they were going to look like when he'd gotten there. Ban kept playing up the ridiculousness of his own lack of forethought for all it was worth but, when all was said and done, his emotions had an expression of such absolute relief and gratitude that even he, unable to feel anywhere near strongly as his emotions could, could understand how it had to have felt. He knew damn well he didn't _deserve_ it, having a friend like Ban, but until the day he died for good, he was never going to stop _trying_ to be.

He's told of how they realized that the normal door to Purgatory had to be somewhere under his father's control, their eventual encounter with Hawk's older brother, Wild, and their travels together as a group. The story's been so unbelievable, he's not even really all that surprised to find out that Hawk apparently has a brother who actually _was_ a warrior strong enough to literally run circles around his emotions—even if, according to him, it was only because he was much weaker without his body. What does surprise him, however, was the fact that, _apparently,_ his emotions, Ban, and Wild then fought Dad for more than sixty years straight.

Yes, Ban might be an immortal and but— _how the hell did they survive fighting Dad for over sixty years?!_ How did his _emotions_ make it?! His Dad's been trying to get _rid_ of them for the past three thousand years! It was all just... _unbelievable._ And he's lived long enough that even _this_ exact situation wasn't the most unbelievable thing he's ever witnessed.

They never once succeed despite all the years they spent fighting him, ( _finally, something that made_ sense) not even after they'd both figured out the core concept behind his magic power ( _inversion, he had to remember that_ ) and after Ban had developed a technique that could exploit it _(so_ that _was how they'd fixed his hearts)_ , their last bout ending with his father blasting them off into the far distance, separating them from Wild in the process. It was in the years they'd spent wandering in the aftermath of that last bout that they'd come across the Purgatory Witch, an apparently benevolent entity who'd agreed to open a door back to the mortal realm for them just because they'd asked, without asking for anything in return—

"Though her shit-aim made a _real_ mess of things," Ban concludes. He was grinning, though, and he didn't seem to have any regrets. "But at least it meant we got to save _you_ , Cap'n."

"That's true," his emotions agree. "At least you didn't have to die this time! Dying really sucks."

In response, all he could was slump back against his pillows and just try to absorb it all, failing miserably to the detriment of his pounding skull as he did. "Yeah," he says, at last, voice coming out weaker than he'd have preferred. His head was aching something _awful_. "Not my first time."

His emotions grin. "I know," he says. Then with a smile that was equal parts unashamedly, _infuriatingly_ knowing and sympathetic with understanding: "I know it's a lot to take in. It's alright if you're overwhelmed."

"It _is_ one hell of a story," he agrees. "Definitely... a _lot_."

Ban smirks. "Bit of an understatement, there, Cap'n," he drawls. When he turns to look at him, however, concern is clear in his eyes and he looks a bit more solemn. "How're you holdin' up?"

He wants to answer as he usually does but finds that he just... can't. Not right now. "As well as you'd expect," he rasps, and Ban laughs, though his emotions give a sympathetic wince. "I wanna drink," he can't help but mumble, and while he hates how weak he sounds, he doesn't have the energy to sound strong. "My head hurts."

"M'sorry, 'bout that, Cap'n," Ban says, and he seemed to mean it. It wasn't much but it helps, somehow. "Any other time, I would, but your guts are all still messed up. When you're better, alright?"

He closes his eyes and bobs a nod. It's all he can do and, for now, it's enough.

"I know it can't be easy," his emotions say, and it really, _really_ wasn't. "Still, we're here, _you're_ here, and you're in a much better place than I was, in my time. I know it's hard right now but, believe me, things can only get better for you."

It's through the pounding in his skull that he meets his gaze. "Aren't you optimistic?" he snarks, to which his emotions only smile. And holy _damn_ , but the sight of _himself_ doing that was a headache all on its own...

"I _am_ all of your emotions," he points out, sounding far too cheerful for his tastes. "Good and bad. It makes sense that I can be."

"Right," he mutters. His head was _still_ pounding and this really didn't help. "That... makes perfect sense, yeah..."

It didn't and he wants a _fucking_ drink. It's been over an hour since he'd woken up and while Ban's Gift, as he'd called it, had helped soothe the aches in his body, it did _nothing_ to help the ache in his head and it was an _awful_ one. He wants to fall asleep. He wants to drink himself up to the eyes in Bernia ale. He almost wants things to just go back to _normal._ Instead, he's here, head aching too much to let him sleep, unable to drink more than water because of his still-healing guts, and with no one but a pair of time travelers for company, of whom one was his emotions incarnate. _This_ was what has his life has become. Just... _this._

"Ah, you're awake! It's good to see that you're recovering, Captain."

The unexpected feminine voice made him turn. It was Merlin, back in her normal, unpetrified body and dressed in a new outfit, striding triumphantly down the stairs with Aldan by her side, making him _stare._ Though he can see Ban and his emotions as they call out greetings, for a few moments, all he can hear is _one_ word:

How.

 _How?!_

"Oh, yeah," his emotions suddenly say. "I guess I forgot to mention it but I've also figured out how to remove Commandment curses! I learned it when I removed yours."

He _stares._ "... _okay,"_ is all he finds he can say in response to that. Because what else was he supposed to say to that? What? _What?!_

Merlin gives him a small, sympathetic smile. "I was the one to break the curse on myself, however," she points out, to which his emotions grin, cheeky. "Though your emotions did provide the hint I needed in order to do so." She walks over to his side, arms crossed, continuing to look at his emotions from the corner of her eye. "As it turns out, all I needed to do was... _remember_ where I came from."

What did that even _mea—?!_

Oh.

"I _know,"_ she says, and the look she shot his now very _smug_ -looking counterpart was irritated and almost _petulantly_ thankful in a way he hasn't seen since the days when Elizabeth had been a goddess _._ For his part, he couldn't _believe_ he'd forgotten, too. "Regardless, how much have you learned so far, Captain?"

"A lot," he mutters, to which both Ban and his emotions exchange vaguely amused, sympathetic looks. "We've been at this since I woke up."

"I gathered," she says wryly. "In any case, I was curious. How _did_ Zaratras come back from the dead?"

He blinks.

"... Zaratras came back from the dead?" he asks weakly. " _Really?!"_

"We haven't reached that part yet," his emotions confirm, and he really cannot help but stare.

How many parts _were_ there?! They'd done nothing _but_ talk for _hours_ now!

Ban only looked amused. "It's a long story," he repeats. When all this was over, he thinks deliriously, _determinedly,_ to himself, he was going to _ban_ that phrase from the Sins' vocabulary. Call it the _eighth_ law of the Seven Deadly Sins. "Really, Cap'n, we're gonna be here for a while," he says, this time looking at him directly. "Lots of stuff happened in our time."

"Indeed," Merlin sighs. "I'd imagine it would take years for us to understand everything you've been through," she says, one note of her voice sympathetic but the rest just curious. "So we may as well get started."

He slumps back further against his pillows and thinks that, yes, dying _would_ have been easier than this. "Right," he mumbles tiredly. "Let's get this over with."

As the story-telling continued, his emotions and Ban narrating a tale that only seemed to get more outlandishly unbelievable by the second, Merlin surreptitiously passes him some headache medicine, and it's right then and there that he decides that Merlin was a _saint._

* * *

Hours after Merlin's message, long after almost everyone else had tucked in to catch whatever rest they could, Elizabeth was roaming around the archives of Castle Liones alone, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, not just from the weight of the tomes piled in her arms but from sheer, absolute exhaustion.

In an effort to help Diane regain what memories she could, she, Gowther, and King had banded together to help retell of their adventures, both those from the battles of ten years ago and those Elizabeth had personally seen. Her father had allowed them full access to all the records of their adventures and Diane seemed to remember more easily with each passing hour but...

There was just so _much_ to go over...

Even with Gowther's _Playback_ and _Broadcast_ easing the process, they had years and _years_ worth of memories to go over, names, and places, and adventures all worth remembering that Diane just, for the life of her, could _not._

And it really, _really_ didn't help that Gowther had willfully chosen to erase all traces of King from her memories. Everyone else, both from the Sins and the Holy Knights in general, she felt a sort of... familiarity. Here and there, she could even remember things, just bits and pieces from memories both big and small, some from great, epic battles and others just moments from their everyday lives. The longer Diane spent with her, with the other Sins present, even with the other Holy Knights, the more she remembered about them... all except for King. With him, all she could remember was...

Nothing. Just... _nothing._

She knew he was a friend and she felt that he was something special but, aside from those vague feelings she didn't fully understand, she couldn't remember anything about him at all. No matter he did, no matter what _she_ did, she just could not remember _anything_ about him.

And, according to Gowther, he didn't know a way to reverse it...

Elizabeth couldn't imagine what it had to be like for King, having the person he loved not remember him, so close yet so far... she just had to help. And she was happy to! This was _Diane,_ she was her friend, her _best_ friend, even. It was just that, now, she was—

Right now, she was working this wing of the archives on her own and it was... a lot to go through, to say the least. Elizabeth didn't begrudge Diane her sleep, of course, she _perfectly_ understood why she'd be tired after everything. Losing her memories, returning to her homeland on _foot (!),_ fighting in the festival—of course she understood! So when Diane, who'd _barely_ been able to keep her eyes open, finally decided to accept her own offer to share her room for the night, how in the world could she begrudge her? She just couldn't, not at all!

And how could she begrudge King? He was the last to go up to bed—he had to be _carried,_ he was so tired, how in the world could she begrudge him his sleep? As for Gowther, Gowther was still working! He was scanning through the archives in the other wing of the castle, working to atone for his "misbehavior", as he called it. Certainly, he'd made a terrible mistake but he was working to fix it harder than anyone! She didn't begrudge anyone, anyone at all! It was just that she was—

Just...

— _exhausted._

She had yet to sleep, not even a wink. Not since she'd pledged to help her in recovering her memories, not since before they were transported to the castle—not since before they'd entered the festival grounds, even, and she was so, _so_ tired. After everything that had happened, everyone was tired, of course, and she was certainly not going to complain but she truly, _truly_ did want to sleep. And she could, of course, there was plenty of room in her bedroom, even with a (Gilfrost-shrunken) Diane for company and she was sure no one would complain if she took a break but—

But...

She didn't want to.

Every time she tried, she would see _it_ again.

Whenever she so much as closed her eyes, she could see it, clear as day, that awful, _awful_ sight, hear his screams as if they were right in her ears. Every time she had a moment to herself, she'd see it, _hear_ it, all of her worst nightmares come to life. Back then, it had been like watching her heart getting torn to pieces before her eyes.

He was safe, now, of course, Merlin was with him now, and so was that other Ban and that... _other_ him. And she knew it was him. Gilfrost might've scoffed but it was _true._ Up until Merlin had vouched for their identities, she hadn't had any proof and she knew it didn't make sense but she just— she just _knew,_ the truth of his identity was something she recognized down to her very bones. Just like it had been _him_ there, lying beaten and broken and—

He was safe, now, at the Boar Hat, with Merlin watching over him and that other Ban and other him protecting him. Somehow, _miraculously,_ he'd been _saved._ He was safe now. She knew that. Logically, she knew that. Yet every time she closed her eyes, she could still see it, clear as day, the sight of him as he'd nearly been—

... It didn't bear thinking about. Right now, she had a job to do, and she was happy to do it. She didn't mind if she was tired, sore, and exhausted, not if it was for Diane, her own best friend. Anyway, it wasn't like there wasn't a benefit to her: the longer she stayed awake, the less she had to see _it_ again and it wasn't like there was any use in dwelling on it, not when, right now, she knew he was safe... even if she still couldn't help but fret...

"Elizabeth?! What are you still doing in here!? You're supposed to be in bed!"

She very nearly drops the books, squeaking as she does. Hawk was staring at her from the open doorway with wide, worried eyes.

"I was just trying to—w-what are _you_ doing here, Hawk? Shouldn't you be asleep, too...?"

"I was!" he huffs. "I just woke up 'cause I needed to use the toilet, that's all!"

"And _I'm_ awake here because I helped him find it," another voice interjects. Slader had just walked into view from right behind Hawk, eyes peering at her through his helmet with a mix of concern and... confusion. "Princess Elizabeth... what are you wearing?"

She accidentally drops the books with a squeak, blushing, hands going up to fiddle nervously at her hair in a move that was almost automatic. "I..." she falters. As the clothes Zaneli had so thoughtfully given to her had been torn in the fight with the Marakians, she'd changed into clothes she'd had made after the chaos with the fight against the possessed Hendrickson, an outfit that echoed her old Boar Hat waitress' uniform in terms of design. "I designed these myself, actually," she says, tugging at the hem of her new dark-colored top. It was oddly embarrassing, actually admitting it... "Th-they're easier to move in!" she adds, nervous though it _was_ true. If her clothes were more... _daring_ than her father might've strictly liked, it was only because it was necessary, so she wouldn't be a burden. And, anyway... she actually rather liked wearing clothes like these. "Really..."

"Looks like something that perv would like," Hawk says skeptically before squealing and clamping his hooves over his mouth. "N-not that there's anything _wrong_ with that!" he hastens to add, seeing her droop. Somehow, even that passing mention had reminded her of how he'd looked when he'd been— "You look great!"

"That type of clothes does suit you, Princess," Slader compliments. Without even having to say a word, he'd bent to pick up all of the books she'd dropped. On his broad shoulders, those heavy tomes looked tiny. "I'm just wondering why you're dressed to go out and not for bed." The last two words, he says with an emphasis that makes her look down. "It's the middle of the night, Princess. You should be asleep."

"There's still so much to do, though!" she bursts out, hands clenching into fists. "How could I sleep, there's still so much to do! Diane, she's—"

"Diane's asleep!" This time, Hawk's the one to cut in, looking at her incredulously. "Elizabeth—don't tell me you've been staying up for _that?!"_

 _"_ Sh-she's my best friend! I owe her this much..." her voice trails off as she tries to steel herself. "I can't just sit back and do _nothing,_ I..." she falters. "I don't _want_ to do nothing."

Though his eyes were obscured by his great helmet, Elizabeth could sense pity in Slader's gaze. "Princess, it's the middle of the night. You haven't slept in days," he gently points out. "Diane would be upset to see you working yourself to exhaustion like this. You've done more than enough, today."

"That's right," Hawk pipes up. "Really, Elizabeth, you look dead on your feet!"

She flinches and looks down. "I... I am tired," she has to admit. She could hardly say otherwise, not when it was written so clear over her face. "I just don't think I should—"

"Is this because of Meliodas?"

She freezes, words dying in her throat. "I..."

"H-hey, wait a minu—way to read the situation!" the last line, Hawk directed at Slader, who only looked evenly, if apologetically, back at her.

"We can't skate around the issue forever," he points out, looking almost disapprovingly at the pig before returning his gaze to her, looking sympathetic. "Princess, I know it must've been upsetting for you, seeing all of that. And no one can blame you," he adds. "But we know he's safe now; Big Sister's watching over him herself. He would only be upset, seeing you like this."

She swallows thickly. "I just..."

"He's right, Elizabeth!" Hawk chimes in. "He's already recovering, Merlin said it herself! He's safe now and, anyway, she's there to watch over him. Her, those _other_ two, and even my Mama! There's no need for you to wear yourself out worrying over him, not when we know he's going to be _fine."_

"I just... I felt so _useless_ back there," she whispers, and both Hawk and Slader exchange glances. Her voice had sounded small, even to her own ears. "I... I want to see him for myself. I don't want—until I can see him for myself, I don't think I _can_ sleep. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is..."

Here she stops. Draws in a deep, shuddering breath.

"I thought I was going to lose him," she says quietly. "I need to see him again."

Slader reaches out and softly places a hand on her shoulder. "And you will," he says gently. "In a few hours time. They're all already heading our way, Big Sister said so herself. Now, come on," Slader tells her, taking off his mask. His expression was gentle, and his eyes were kind. "I'm sure he wouldn't want you losing sleep over him, dear. You've already stayed up almost all night. A girl really must get her beauty sleep."

"It's okay if you're worried," Hawk adds, trotting over to her side. "I'm... I'm worried, too," he admits. "But you shouldn't do this to yourself, Elizabeth, it won't do anyone any good! We know he's going to be okay so just go to bed, already! I'll stay with you if you want."

After a long, long moment, her shoulders slump and she lets out a long-held breath. "A-alright," she says, at last, sounding resigned. "I... suppose I will. I still don't think I can sleep but maybe I could just... lie down, for a while."

"That's the spirit," Slader encourages. "Come on, dear. Let me take you to your room."

"It's going to be alright, Elizabeth," Hawk tells her. She wishes she could feel as confident as he sounded. "Everything's going to be fine."

* * *

It was an hour after the entire ( _enormous)_ story had been told and Meliodas was once again alone in his room, lying awake in the silence. Merlin, Ban, and his emotions had left to ostensibly let him rest but given everything he'd just learned, how could he?

A future where he died and came back. A future where Liones hung on the edge of a precipice. A future where Elizabeth had remembered because of Zeldris. A future where he'd lost himself. Depending on whether or not they counted the years spent wandering Purgatory, the stories they'd told spanned either months or a millennium, and, either way, it was all too much information to have been given in the span of just a couple of hours.

"I know it is," an unexpected voice pipes up. When he looks up, it's to see his emotions entering the room, his counterpart looking both amused and sympathetic as he went to sit on the foot of his bed. "And I'm sorry. But if we want to make your future a better one than ours, you really are going to need all the information you can get."

He grunts a greeting. "... Still a real headache, though," he grumbles, though only halfheartedly. He did understand, of course, but it didn't make it any easier. "What're you doing here?" he asks. "Weren't you and Ban planning a reunion party or something?

"They kicked me out," he answers cheerfully. "Ban doesn't want me contaminating his cooking," he says, with a fond roll of his eyes. "Merlin's staying with him to make sure he cooks something you can eat. Gift aside, your gut's still in pretty bad shape. And, no, sorry," he adds preemptively. "No ale."

It wasn't unexpected but it's still disappointing. "Well, that stinks," he grumbles, to which his emotions give a sympathetic little smile. "What do you want, then? Don't tell me you haven't finished telling us everything..."

At first, he only grins and for the first time, he knows _exactly_ what Merlin meant when she'd once drunkenly told him that he had a _punchable_ smile. "Well, yeah, I haven't," he admits. "But you already know everything you need to know," he adds before he could attempt to _strangle_ him one-handed. "So it's not that."

"What is it, then?" he asks, eyeing him warily.

He seems to have to steel himself before speaking. "You need to tell them," he states. "The Sins. I think... you— _we_ need to tell them. The curse, Elizabeth, who we are— _everything."_

He blinks. "I... what?"

"It was something I realized, while we were traveling in Purgatory," the words come out in a rush, one after the other, and his emotions, his double in form, holds himself like he was trying to keep his own guts in. "I—I told you, if we want to make your future a better one, you're going to need all the information you can get—and the same goes for the Sins. They need—they _deserve_ to know."

He looks down. "I... I _know_ that they need to know about you," he admits, because he really cannot say otherwise, not when their future depended on it, the future of Britannia itself. "But... everything else... _why?"_

His emotions look at him as if he'd said something stupid. "... They deserve to know because they're our friends and we trust them, heart and soul," he says as if it were as obvious as simple addition. "We can't tell Elizabeth about the curse or anything because it's dangerous for her to know, but the rest of the Sins? Tell them. They can all be trusted. And, besides..." He lets out a long breath as he looked down at his own hands. "It's unfair to them," he says quietly. "Not knowing why we're fighting, why the war began, what we want in the end... it's unfair for us to ask for so much from them without... without at least letting them know that much. They're all trustworthy. We both know that."

"... you sure are trusting," he says, after a long moment, staring openly at his counterpart. What else he could say, he didn't really know.

"Well, I _am_ your heart," he says. Though his tone was amiable, there was something like gentle rebuke in his eyes. "I've known I could trust them with everything for a long time now. You used to, too," he adds, almost offhandedly. "You need to remember that. We don't just trust them with our lives, we trust them with _Elizabeth's,_ all of them. You know they're all more than worthy of knowing. You just need to trust that they won't leave once they find out."

He freezes. "How did you—"

"I'm _you,"_ he interrupts, with a lopsided little half-smile. "And... no matter what lies you tell," he says, making Meliodas look up at him, his double, who now looked pensively back at him, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You can't lie to your heart." He then makes a sweeping gesture down at himself, the physical manifestation of his soul, what let him feel emotions. "You do the math."

He slumps back against the pillows. "... yeah, I guess I can't," he has to concede, voice quiet. "It's just..." his voice trails off and, for a moment, it is only quiet.

"... there's not much of me left, is there?"

He doesn't need to answer. They both already knew.

"You need to remember, Meliodas," his emotions instruct him, walking over to thump him on the back. "The Sins aren't just our allies, they're our friends. We trust them. Think about it," Here, he bends to look him in the eye, green meeting green. "Ban jumped into Purgatory to save me, even without knowing how to get back out—hell, without even knowing what I'd _look_ like." Now, there was a warmth to his expression, gratitude bright in the green of his eyes. His expression was more than just fond, it was openly affectionate. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked like that. Perhaps three thousand years ago, before Drole and Gloxinia had lost everything and fallen, when he and Elizabeth still flew together across the same skies. Perhaps back then. He can't remember, now. "And you just _know_ the Ban here would do the same thing. "

"... it's because he's an idiot," he has to say. A flicker of warmth is burning in his own chest, faint but comforting all the same, and he can't imagine ever willfully ejecting something so precious. "Isn't he?"

"He's the biggest idiot there is," his emotions agree. There's a smile on his face and it is warm and wide and Meliodas can't remember the last time he's seen his face look like that. "It's why we're friends. It's why we trust him. Him, and all the rest of the Sins."

He's still not sure. All things considered, he—he doesn't _want_ to tell them but... "We trust them," he repeats, and he knows its true, down to his bones.

His heart smiles. "We do. Then, for the first time, he looks hesitant. "Look... there's something else I learned when I got here. It's... hard to explain but... I'd like to show you, if I can. Do you trust me?"

He looks at him for a long, long moment before letting out a chuckle. "You have to ask?"

His counterpart grins. _"You_ , of all people, _have_ to know the answer," he says, almost teasingly. He places his hand right in the center of his chest, over the one heart that had not been damaged by Estarossa, and lets out a breath. "This is going to feel weird, alright?" he warns, to which he nods. "Now... _Empathize!"_

Light momentarily floods his vision as his emotions flicker like heat haze in the moonlight streaming from the window, like flames wavering in a breeze

And it was—

Like something had filled his chest, something both warm, familiar, and, somehow, unfathomably alien. It was something he'd long forgotten, somehow both like standing in a warm breeze and getting burned alive from the inside. Something that shook him down to the core, something that made him feel...

 _Feel_ — _!_

Something that made him _feel._

Confusion, alarm, shock—

It wasn't like he'd ever stopped feeling such but it had been absolute _centuries_ since he could feel them so _strongly...!_

And... _wonder._ Wonder that he could feel it all. Wonder at how... _different_ it all was. It was all just so... _intense._

"This is..." he manages to choke out. He didn't know why, but he wanted to both laugh and cry at the same time and he didn't understand it at all, but he both loved and hated it, having his emotions back, feeling absolutely _everything_ so strongly he could scarcely breathe. "This is... _unbelievable."_

"This is _normal_ ," his counterpart counters, grinning. His face was pale and he was clutching at his own ribs with his free hand. When he looks at him, feeling concerned, confused, and surprised at the _intensity_ of how it all felt, and his counterpart grunts: "Dying really sucks but being alive isn't easy either, is it?"

He can't help it. He laughs, loud, hard, and true, and it makes his ribs hurt and fills his chest and it's more wonderful than anything, anything in the world. "It _sucks,"_ he wheezes. "It really, _really_ sucks—pfft!" Then he laughs and laughs, and he can't and doesn't _want_ to stop. It's not even that funny but he just loves how it feels to laugh like this and he just loves _feeling_

His emotions let him laugh until he runs out of breath and when he does, there are tears in his eyes and an ache in his chest, and he hasn't felt this amazing in years. "It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?"

" _Forever_ ," he answers, smiling at the _feeling_ of it all, and there's an amount of wonder in the words. It wasn't that he hadn't _known,_ he'd been told of the nature of his deaths and revivals time and time again, but... he'd forgotten how _much_ he used to be able to feel. He'd forgotten how it _felt._ "I almost can't believe it..."

"I know," he says quietly, and, for a moment, his smile looks sad, but before he can comment, his eyes are bright once more. "So," he says, almost conversationally. "We trust the Sins."

And now that he can, he can _feel_ the truth of the words down to his bones, warmth, contentment, and _faith_ thrumming through his being at even just the memory of them, his companions, his allies, his _friends._

He smiles and it feels _good._ "How much are we going to tell them?"

His emotions—his _heart_ looks at him and smirks.

 _"Everything."_

* * *

In the Holy Knight barracks, King lay awake on his hammock. He could not sleep and, all things considered, he's not sure how anyone, save only Elaine, was able to.

After all, his sister had come back from the dead but was now only barely alive, he'd gotten to see just how _badly_ the Commandments outclassed them, Diane was starting to remember but couldn't remember _him,_ and the Captain...

He frowns.

The _Captain..._

He lets out another long sigh.

As always, the Captain was a story all by himself.

"... That's a sorry look on your face."

Only then does he realize that Ban was staring at him from his own bed across his, though Elaine remained asleep in his arms.

(Being perfectly honest, he hadn't exactly _approved_ of Elaine staying in the same bed as Ban. However, Ban had very pointedly told him where he could stuff his approval and Elaine, pale, weak, and trembling, had wholeheartedly concurred.)

"Go back to sleep, Ban," he says tiredly. "It's none of your business."

"You sure 'bout that?" he asks skeptically, and he looks away. "If it's about you getting all suspicious about the Cap'n," he continues. "The Master's already filled me in." He very casually disentangles himself from Elaine, taking care to make sure she was positioned comfortably against the pillows before leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin on his hands, and eyes fixed on King's face. "What's all that about?"

Something about the _hypocrisy_ of it all was just _galling._

Didn't _he_ do the exact same thing?!

"Well, what do you expect?" he bursts out, exasperated. "We already knew he was part of the Demon Clan—and at first, I tried not to care about that! I thought of him—I _trusted_ him as our Captain way before we ever found out what he was and I didn't want to let the fact that he might be—that he _is_ a demon get in the way of that! But then, it turns out he _personally_ knows about the Ten Commandments," he continues. "He knew who was possessing Hendrickson, he knew the abilities of the Commandments enough to know who he didn't want to know about us—he knows so much that he's _not telling us_ and it's getting us nowhere! Why shouldn't I be suspicious about him?! About what he's really trying to do?!"

"... D'you really think that the Cap'n and the Commandments want anything to do with each other?" Ban asks, eyes dark. "After seeing how they tried to _butcher_ him?!"

King looks down. "No," he has to admit. Because if there could've been _any_ greater proof that Meliodas—the _Captain,_ King mentally corrected—was no ally of the Commandments, it would've literally been his own corpse. And as suspicious as he was of his fellow Sin these days... he didn't want that. He was never going to want that. "I know he's not with them but..." His fists tighten. "Given _everything_ else, I can't just—"

"Can't just what?" he cuts in, to which King can only exhale, hands clenching into fists as he tried to get his breathing back under control. "... What started all of this, anyway?" he has to ask. "Last I saw, you guys were on good terms."

"... Hendrickson," he grits out. "He's back, if you didn't notice."

"'Course, I did," he says. Then he blinks. "... Oh, I see. The Cap'n wanted you to play nice with him, is _that_ it?"

Ban...

... _really_ was annoying.

"Because of him," he grits out. "I had to kill _my_ best friend with my own hands. _Three_ times. I don't care if he was possessed. I don't want _anything_ to do with him."

"... that's fair," Ban allows. "And you're pissed at the Cap'n 'cause he asked you to play nice with him."

" _It's not just that, I_ — _!_ " he has to _physically_ stop himself from flying off the handle, physically holding himself together. Ban always had been amazing at getting under his skin. "He knows a lot that he's not telling us," he says, at last. "And if we knew half the things he knew, we'd have a better chance against the Ten Commandments. But we don't. Because he's never told us anything about his past or—"

"Law number three of the Seven Deadly Sins' seven laws," Ban interrupts, sounding almost bored, eyes sliding shut as he leaned back against his pillow once more. "No questions about the other Sins' sins."

He gapes at him. "And you'll just accept that?!" he bursts out.

"Everyone's got secrets to keep," he drawls. "We all have stuff we don't wanna talk about. Unless you're trying to tell me..." his left eye opened a crack, locking onto his face intensely enough that King immediately felt uncomfortable. "... that _you're_ not hiding anything. Are you?"

When King doesn't say a word, he continues: "All I know is, the Commandments hate the Captain as a traitor to the Demon Clan. I heard it from them with my own ears. Hell, we saw them try to _slaughter_ him. Shouldn't that be enough?"

King looks down. "I... it's not that simple," he says. "It's not that I don't _want_ to trust him. I _know_ he's not on their side but..." He remembers their conversation from what felt like forever ago. "... Why should we trust him if he doesn't trust us at all?! 'Even if I did, I don't think you'd believe me. Honestly.'," he briefly imitates the tone he remembers, the infuriating non-answers, feeling that frustration he'd thought quashed rising once more. "Give me a chance to judge for myself, I _want_ to trust you! I just..." His shoulders drop as he lets out a long sigh. "I just wish he trusted us more."

Ban looks at him for a long moment before leaning back against the headboard with his own long sigh. "... I getcha there," he grumbles. Still, he doesn't seem at all begrudging. "I won't tell you how to feel but I do think you should—"

The walls of the castle _shook_.

Without a second glance, they spring to action, Ban with Elaine in his arms, rushing to the window as a shadow covered the moon.

The Boar Hat had finally arrived.

* * *

All of the Sins present there—King, Ban, Escanor, Gowther, and Diane—rush out at the Boar Hat's arrival, their Holy Knight travelling companions, along with Arthur and a reluctant, suspicious Gilfrost, following closely behind, Hawk squealing "wait for me!" as he brought up the rear. From inside the castle, Matrona, shrunken down as Diane had been, watched the proceedings next to the knight, Silver, and the bard, Solatido, those three having been the only ones of the relatively-unaffiliated festival-goers to have gone to see the commotion. Holy Knights and castle guards all shouted and pointed at the great pig's descent but, somehow—

"Sir Meliodas!"

That screamed name remained audible over all the ruckus.

Wild-haired, wide-eyed, and still dressed in the clothes she'd slept in, Elizabeth'd come barreling out from her room at the sound of the commotion, heart pounding in her chest _._ Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps something more, but she'd known it was _him_ the moment she'd woken up, and despite her exhaustion after the long hours, she felt more _alive_ than she'd had since the nightmare of yesterday had begun.

"Princess!"

"Elizabeth!"

"Lady Elizabeth?!"

Before King could think to lower Chastiefol's pillow form to give her a lift, before Diane could go down to carry her up, before the astonished eyes of everyone present, after a running start, she outright _leapt_ out of the open window for the rope ladder hanging by the Boar Hat's side, managing to grab the rungs with something close to desperation, before scaling her way up into the Boar Hat with all the speed of a woman possessed, all in the miniskirt and heels of her new Boar Hat waitress' uniform. She's the first to reach the top, before the flying King, before the fastest Sin, Ban, and she doesn't stop until she's at the door, her hands scraped raw, her breathing heavy, and her thoughts centered on nothing but the warm, familiar presence she could feel inside, one she recognized from her very soul.

"Sir Meliodas," she gasps. "He's _here._ He's alive, I can feel it, he's—"

"He's here. He's safe," Ban finishes for her, having been the second to reach the top, coming to a stop right behind her. There, the princess finally smiles, wiping away relieved tears before they could fall from her eyes. His expression echoed what she felt, a relief so profound, it made her want to both laugh and cry with the joy of it, and it was _wonderful._ "Everything's going to be alright."

She almost fumbles at the door but doesn't. The door swings open just as the rest of the Sins and their companions reach her side, Gilthunder and Howzer automatically moving protectively before her in a guard position, though the manic look on Gilthunder's face told her he was almost as desperate to see him as she was.

Now.

No one knew what to expect, of course. They knew there were _two_ Meliodas(es), somehow, as well as a second Ban, all under Merlin's care but none of them really knew what to expect. Hostility seemed unlikely but—suspicions, maybe demands? Those would've been _somewhat_ expected, at least.

Whatever the case, they _definitely_ didn't expect to find the two Meliodas sitting around a table, chatting over tea, soup, and biscuits.

"About time you guys got here!" the one on the left exclaims, looking almost annoyed. "We've been waiting for ages!"

The other one's mouth was still full of biscuit, his mouth smeared with icing, but he nods in affirmation.

A veritable _feast_ had been laid out on the dining tables of the tavern. Roasted birds, stews, bread, frosted biscuits, and, of course, _ale_ were laid out in a spread that far outstripped even the kingdom's celebration feast. At the kitchen was the _other_ Ban, a familiar apron thrown over his unfamiliar getup, cooking implements held readied as he deftly handled what looked like an _army's_ worth of biscuits onto plates enough for all of them.

"Just in time, too," he drawls. "Food was starting to get cold."

"Wha—?" King sputters. "What the—how did you— _who the heck are you?!"_

The outburst startles one of the Meliodas enough that he actually choked on his biscuit. Meliodas immediately rushed with tea to help. Meliodas helped Meliodas. That actually happened.

" _Oi_ ," the Ban at the kitchen calls out, waving a batter-covered spoon warningly in their direction. "I don't care who you are. You're not allowed to hurt my best friend's feelings!"

Meliodas—the one dressed in a Boar Hat bar-staff's uniform—waved his right arm. His sleeve flopped about, obviously empty from the elbow down. "I'm his best friend," he says, gesturing at himself. Both of him.

"And _I'm_ his feelings!" the other Meliodas, the one who'd choked, declares, pointing both thumbs at himself. Both of him. "... it's complicated."

It's in that moment, when almost everyone was struck dumb, either from joy or disbelief or sheer _confusion_ over the entire situation, that Merlin, a perfectly cured and not at all petrified _Merlin_ , finally chose to make her appearance, floating down from upstairs with Aldan by her side, her trademark smile on her face as she _perfectly_ summarized the thought processes of every single one of the newcomers in one sentence.

"That seems like an understatement."

* * *

 **Again, if asked, those three will say they didn't rehearse that exchange before they'd finally arrived. Again, they're liars. Merlin found their practicing to be silly but harmless fun.**

 **As a fun fact, what Meliodas believes is the most unbelievable thing in the world, even more than weird time travel shenanigans, is the fact that Elizabeth ever fell in love with him.**

 **Next chapter, every non-Commandment will be in the same room, in a chapter I'm 95% decided is going to be titled "The Reunion". One way or another, they gon' spill the beans. And don't worry, I promise it won't just be endless the future recaps/the past reacts. I already have some ideas (though I suppose I'm open to more suggestions). Will there be explosions?! Will the "Re-" arc end soon?! Find out... in two weeks-ish! Assuming nothing goes awry, I should finish by April 7. (If I'm late by more than a week without a word, assume I'm dead and get a necromancer)**

 **Just remember, feedback keeps me going and I hope you have a nice day.**


	6. The Reunion

**No necromancy needed this week, I'm right here.**

 **Though, in the event that one is needed, just so we're clear, I'd prefer to be brought back as some form of lich. My keyboard would make a wonderful phylactery.**

 **Gosh, all these people, though... this was really hard to write but, in the end, I'm satisfied.** **Enjoy, I would hope!  
EDIT: Fixed some things**

* * *

A lot of things happened all at once in the immediate aftermath of Merlin's arrival.

Before any of the stunned others could even think of a way to respond, Elizabeth practically _launched_ herself at the Meliodas dressed in the Boat Hat bar-staff's uniform, almost tackling him off of his chair, grabbing him tight and holding him close the moment she'd made contact with his skin. He moves almost automatically in response, left arm moving to return the embrace and as he did, her hands wandered over the contours of his face, his shoulders, his back, her eyes roaming worriedly over the expanse of his body the moment she pulled back from the embrace, almost in disbelief that it was _him,_ whole, hale, and... seeming almost _miraculously_ unhurt. "You're... you're safe! I don't know _what_ I would've done if you had—"

"I'm _fine,_ Elizabeth," he cuts in reassuringly, his smile soft, and his eyes softer. Then, more cheekily: "You're being awfully aggressive today. What's gotten into you?"

Instead of blushing, instead of getting flustered, she lets out a laugh like a sob and buries her face into the crook of his neck, happy tears leaking from her eyes as she held him tight. She doesn't mean to but, at that moment, her entire body glows and suddenly he's awash in healing light bright enough to blind, though it only makes him smile and hold her just as tight. "I'm just happy you're safe!"

Perhaps only heartbeats after she had made her move, Arthur launched himself at Merlin, disbelief and delight shining in the brightness of his smile the moment he'd crashed into her, the moment his arms wrapped around actual living flesh instead of meeting stone or passing through a projected illusion, especially brightening when she moved to hug him back, momentarily reminding him of childhood days spent dandled on her lap as she told him adventure stories _._ She was _real._ She'd been _cured._ "Merlin! You're back to normal!" he says when they separate, gazing up at her wonderingly. "That's amazing!"

"Indeed," She was smiling and her eyes were warm as she regarded him. "It's good to see you, Arthur," she says fondly. "You seem well. The Captain told me you acquitted yourself well during the festival."

"Sir Meliodas told you that?! Wow! Honestly, he actually did most of the work, I only helped and..."

While this was going on, Escanor watched. He had been reaching out for her when Arthur had trapped her in an embrace, one he saw her happily return. His expression was crushed as he slowly retracted his hand. "M-Merlin...?" he whispers. In the chaos of their arrival, and the noise that came with it, no one who hears his voice. "Don't tell me, you're in—that he's your..."

Midnight had never seemed darker for the Lion's Sin of Pride.

Among all who'd arrived, he alone was rendered mute, with almost everyone now shouting or demanding or laughing as the situation demanded.

Ban, the one who'd arrived with the rest, at first with Elaine in his arms—though she'd since woken and gone to flutter over to Ban's side—had at first made to follow Elizabeth to meet with his Cap'n—but, after seeing that he was alive, _well_ , and looking very happy in his Princess' arms... he wasn't going to ruin their moment, not when just the sight of him (alivealive _alive)_ had been enough to put his fears to rest. The other Meliodas, the one in the dark clothes, he was—

"You're _crying?"_ he blurts out. He was already by his side, had been on the way even before he'd seen his tears. "Captain, what's wrong?!"

He _was._ "S-sorry..." he whispers, but he's smiling and there's nothing but honest joy and disbelief in his eyes. "I'm just... I'm just so happy to see you all!"

For a moment, all he can do is stare in shock. Then, honestly unable to help it, he breaks out laughing and, after everything, it feels _good._ "You're being awfully sappy, Captain," he teases, but the relief spills into his voice and he just sounds glad. He still doesn't fucking _know_ but what he does know is that... "It's good to see you're safe," he tells him honestly. "Both of you."

The Captain, with _tears_ in his eyes, laughs back as he scrubs them off of his face, a futile effort given they seemed to just keep flowing without stop. "You, too," he replies, and it's with a kind of bone-deep sincerity he's never heard from him before, yet one that sounds natural all the same. "And... _thank_ you," and those two words were said absolutely wholeheartedly, that Meliodas looking at him with the most open, honest smile, tear tracks shining trails on his face even through his efforts to get rid of them. "For saving me."

He blinks once or twice before finally smiling back, tentatively at first but with just as much sincerity. It was like a great weight was finally lifted off his chest. "That was nothing," he says. Then: "Here." The sword Lostvayne looked tiny in his hands. "I believe _this_ is yours."

"Not _exactly,"_ he says, smiling as if at a private joke, though he takes the sword all the same. In his hands, Lostvayne seemed to fit just right. "But thanks anyway." Then he beams, and it's big and sunny and impossible not to smile back. "I'm glad you're all here."

While they had been speaking, Elaine had gone over to the other Ban's side. "It really _is_ you," she breathes, satisfied, vindicated, and, above all, just happy to see him. "I _knew_ it was you." She lets herself fall into his arms. "Ban...!"

He catches her as he always does, strong arms gentle in their embrace, and when she looks up at him, he looks back, expression torn, frustration and longing warring in his eyes. "Elaine..." all the same, when he says her name, it's with something close to reverence that's all too familiar to the fairy princess, something that makes her smile and nestle further against him. "... I'm glad to see you," he says, at last, and there's a world of meaning behind the words. He's grinning, though, and it's an honest one. "I've been dying to see you for a long time."

In his arms, she's so close to him, she doesn't even have to try. She hears his heart loud and clear. Her eyes widen at the realizations but she doesn't once let go, and instead smiles up at him once more, her silly boy. _Hers_ _._ "I'm sure that other me feels the same way," she tells him. When he looks at her, surprised, she flashes him a smile, partly cheeky, part fond, and all of it absolutely loving. "I'm _always_ happy to see you, Ban!"

He chokes out a laugh. "E _laine."_

She wraps her own arms around him and, for that moment, it's enough.

As this went on, King kept whipping around, staring from Elizabeth snuggling with Meliodas, to the _other_ Meliodas chatting with Ban, to the _other_ Ban snuggling with his sister, so quickly he was close to all but gave himself whiplash. One of his eyes had started to twitch and showed no signs of stopping. _"What the heck is going on?!"_ he blurts out, looking close to outright hysteria. It had already been said many times before but they still had yet to receive any explanation. "What _the—GAH!"_

He's so overwrought at that moment that he almost leaps out of his skin at a light touch at his back.

Luckily for him, Diane was too distracted by everything else that was going on around her to really notice, her own eyes wandering from scene to scene. She looked confused but, then, to some extent or the other, everyone did.

"King?" she was asking. "Is this... _normal_ for us as the Seven Deadly Sins?"

Behind her, Gowther was also observing the goings-on around them. Unlike her, his expression had not changed even once. "Going by our past adventures," he informs her. "I believe this exact situation would qualify as odd, even by our standards."

Behind _him_ , Gilfrost lets out a hysterical sounding laugh, eyes twitching, hands white around his staff. "You _don't say?!"_ he says mockingly. " _I couldn't tell!"_

In contrast, Gilthunder only looked glad. "Sir Meliodas really is alright," he says to himself, letting out a breath he'd been holding for a long, _long_ time. His old mentor, his childhood idol... after everything that had happened, he was _here_ , standing on his own two feet and everything. And if he was alright now... "Everything's going to be alright. _"_

Howzer only stares at him in disbelief. "There's _two of him!_ " He did not yell but he nearly had. He had been whipping back and forth between staring at the bar-staff-uniformed Meliodas and his identical darkly-clothed counterpart, and staring at the apron-wearing Ban and his own identical counterpart, all with an expression of absolute incredulity that many in their group echoed. In that moment, he completely sympathized with King, this was just _too_ weird to just accept like that. "How is this alright?!"

Hendrickson, meanwhile, was also looking back and forth between the identical pairs. His own expression was confused but he did not look as close to hysterics as some of his companions did, at the very least. "This... is happening," he says, tone flat, eyes flatter, and, indeed, this was happening. What this was, he did not know and, in truth, close to no one did.

"I'd be careful not to squish the little guy, if I were you, Princess," the other Ban was now calling out, Elaine out of his arms and flying by his side. He looked relaxed now, meeting his counterpart's gaze wryly when he turned to look at him, having finally really noticed his presence. "He's only just gotten strong enough to walk again, and he's still pretty delicate."

Elizabeth lets go of him as if she'd been scalded. "Oh, no! I-I'm so sorry, Sir Meliodas," she says so quickly, she almost squeaks. "I was just so happy to see you, I didn't even think—"

"You don't have to worry about _me,_ Elizabeth," he reassures her. "I'm not delicate," he says, shooting Ban a sideways look. Then, with an impish look: "Besides—" he reaches out for her and what happened next was an all-too-common occurrence, to Hawk's eternal frustration, Slader's indignation, and Merlin's put-upon exasperation, the mage having hastily covered Arthur's eyes. In any case, he only looked all too pleased to have his hand full. "When I'm holding you like this, I feel better already!"

"R-Really?!"

Despite how almost all of the others had reacted, Elizabeth outright _brightened,_ making him—and many of the others—blink. "Then, please, go on ahead!" She holds him close to her, her embrace warm, tender, gentle, and one of her hands over his as she pressed it further against her skin, the other pressing his face against her chest, her own expression downright earnest _._ In that moment, Meliodas honestly could not _think_ of a way to respond, his every thought now of warmth, softness, skin, and, of course, _Elizabeth_.

Hawk, however, could, and his response was a very flat "What."

"I'd do anything if it makes you feel better, Sir Meliodas," she says tenderly into his hair, one hand combing through those blond locks, and he suddenly finds that it's a struggle to even _breathe,_ not when, in this position, he's breathing in her air and scent, hearing her heart as it beat steadily against his ear, and feeling how very, _very_ soft she was. Emboldened, she adds: "I-in fact, I've... I've always liked how it feels when you touch me! S-so... if it would make you feel better... then, by all means, touch me more!"

Meliodas stops breathing.

Somehow, through all of the chaos that had come with their arrival, her words rang out echoingly loud and clear.

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that ensued.

Then Meliodas blushes scarlet.

Ban was smirking. " _Damn_ , Captain," he drawls to the Meliodas by his side, the one holding Lostvayne. "Hell of a girl you've got there."

"I _know_ ," his counterpart _sighs,_ giddy, his own eyes bright. "She's _incredible."_

Ban, the one next to an amused-looking Elaine looks to the Princess with eyebrows raised, as if seeing her for the very first time. _"Damn,_ Cap'n," he echoes. "Damn."

Then yet more chaos ensued as Elizabeth herself realized exactly what she'd just said, her own face exploding into red with a squeak just as many of the others explode into uproar, everyone's voices blending into noisy cacophony, some from shrieks of laughter, some from exclamations of disbelief, and it is many, _many_ minutes before they get even the remotest semblance of order back in the Boar Hat. Yet, somehow, both given _and_ despite everything, this was also likely the best outcome they could have gotten because, at the very least, copious amounts of alcohol were already on hand and ready for consumption.

The new future they were going to forge was already off to a brilliant start.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," King begins, already feeling the beginnings of a headache despite having yet to touch his ale. "You're from the future. Both of you."

"Pretty much, yeah," the aproned Ban says, with a nod. "Me and _this_ guy, here."

"We didn't mean to come here. It's a... long story," the indicated Meliodas says, to which the _other_ Meliodas groans and massages his forehead. "It's pretty complicated."

The other Ban, _their_ Ban, snorts. "You don't say," he says dryly. "I couldn't guess."

It was many minutes after the chaos had mostly died down. Now, almost everyone was seated, their chairs turned to face the bar, where both of the Meliodas were seated. Food and drink were spread before them all, though most didn't seem to have much of an appetite—though, by the looks of things, Hawk had enough of one to compensate for the rest of them, having begun to eat the moment he'd been given a bowl. Aside from that, everyone either looked to the two Meliodas sitting together up front, looking to all the world like identical twins, or back and forth between the two Bans, the aproned Ban leaning against the bar while his counterpart was seated among them, sharing a table with Elaine and Jericho, his expression rather conflicted where the other Ban's was amused.

"So," one of the Meliodas coughs. "I'm sure you all have a lot of questions."

"I know _I_ still do," the other Meliodas says, one corner of his mouth twitching. "Just so we're all clear, I'm fine, now. No need to worry about me!"

 _That_ one was undoubtedly the one they'd entered the festival with, now refreshed-looking and grinning as if nothing had ever happened. Of the grievous, fatal injuries he'd gotten in the bloodbath at Vaizel, all that was left was the emptiness of his right sleeve where the absence of an arm was painfully apparent. Aside from that, he looked... well, _fine_. The bar-staff uniform he was wearing looked almost new, and he himself looked clean, as if fresh from a bath. After hours and hours of worrying over what had become of him, after what they'd all had to _watch,_ the sight of him was as shocking as it was comforting.

The other Meliodas looks at him from the corner of his eye. "More or less," he interjects. "He's going to need to take it easy for a while but he should be as good as new in a few days' time."

 _That_ one, on the other hand, was also undoubtedly Meliodas. Though the clothes he wore were unfamiliar, he was otherwise _completely_ identical to the Meliodas by his side, from the dragon tattoo bared by his sleeveless shirt to the cowlicks on his head. In contrast with his, well, _twin,_ who seemed as blithely carefree as always was, he looked oddly _overwhelmed,_ seemingly struggling to keep himself from smiling every time he looked at them, eyes brighter than they'd ever seen them before. King could've _sworn_ he'd seen him crying earlier... though that was obviously impossible, not when it was still _Meliodas_ they were talking about. Future or not, he just _didn't_ do that sort of thing, King was sure of _that_ much, at least.

"A-are you, really? Are you _sure_ you've recovered?" Elizabeth asks, eyes still worried as she looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes lingering on the left one in particular. After she'd calmed down from her... _confession_ (King has to suppress a blush at the memory of it), it had taken a lot of convincing before she'd separated from him and, even then, she still looked like she wanted nothing more than to take the both of them into her arms and protect them from the world. "What about your arm...?"

That Meliodas only smiles. He raises his right arm—or rather, what was left of it—and pulls back the sleeve.

It wasn't a cleanly-cut stump they'd expected _(remembered)._ From beneath where the stump should've been _(ended)_ a jag of bone protruded, far longer than what they'd remembered, half-covered in raw-looking flesh and new skin so thin, it was almost translucent. His arm—it was _growing back._

"How is..." Hendrickson asks, throat going dry. "How is that _possible?!"_

Before their astonished eyes, the apparent future Ban wiggles his fingers. "You're welcome," he says easily, to which his counterpart _stares_ , stunned. "It's a gift."

"S-sir Ban... " Elizabeth was now looking at him with admiration. "You have healing powers?"

"Not as good as yours," he says, looking back at her consideringly. "Lot slower. But yeah, I learned a trick or two."

The present Meliodas flashes a quick grin. "All of my hearts have grown back because of him," he informs them to their surprised murmurs and, in Hawk's case, a loudly squealed "seriously?!". "It's a long story," he says, looking cheerful as he once again pulled his sleeve back over the regrowing arm. "The more important thing is, I should have my arm back in a day or two."

Merlin coughs. "Though I insist on bed rest until then," she says, giving him a look from where she was seated by Arthur, Slader, and Gowther. "Your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous, Captain, but I won't have you taking any risks. No ifs, no buts, and no _alcohol,"_ she adds, loud and clear. "Healing magic can only go so far."

"I know, I know," he says, perhaps just a tad sourly. "As I was saying, he's Ban from the future and _he_ is—"

"—The part of his soul that lets him feel emotions," he finishes for him, tone almost introductory. He was smiling and King has to note that his smile was much more open than that of the Captain sitting next to him. "His heart, basically."

While that declaration caused more than its share of murmurs, with Elizabeth looking particularly interested, it's Gowther is the one to catch the most attention. He'd sat up straighter, looking to the self-proclaimed heart with scrutinizing eyes. "You're a heart," he says consideringly, expression finally showing something other than bland neutrality for the first time since they'd gotten here. "How fascinating."

He looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Yes," he confirms cautiously." I'm _his_ heart," he says, indicating himself seated by his side. "I can only work for him."

"... Pity." He actually looked downcast at that. Woodenly so, but still.

Both Meliodas look at him. "Don't even think about it," they say in unison. "I mean it. That's an order."

"Fine."

The future's Meliodas coughs. "Anyway—"

"Is that why your power levels are all off?" Hawk interrupts, his feeding bowl finally empty. At the prompting looks, he clarifies, still intently at the dark-clothed Meliodas. "They're completely off! Magic: 0, Strength: 0, and Spirit: 2,100—boy, howdy, compared to me, you're a real weakling now, Meliodas!"

His expression turned blank. "At the end of the day, I _am_ just a soul," he points out. "I don't have a body. It makes sense I don't have anything but spirit."

Hawk snorts. "The way you are now, I could beat you hands-do— _OW_ _!_ "

The emotions had, in the blink of an eye, spirited over to where Hawk was and very casually landed an elbow drop right onto his skull, with enough force to smash through the floor beneath them, leaving him dazed and stuck in the floorboards, before he just as casually picked himself off of the ground and dusted himself off. Wisely, everyone elected to stay quiet until he was done.

"I wouldn't underestimate him, if I were you," the aproned Ban drawls, amused. "He's still the Captain, after all."

"... Any questions?" he asks, having made his way back to his seat, unimpeded.

Among them all, among all the clamor, Gilthunder actually raises his hand. "E-excuse me, Meliodas," he calls out, voice as polite as he can manage given the circumstances, eyes intent. "How are you... _here?_ Both of you? How did you get here?"

King leans forward. Many others follow.

"Accident," Ban answers for him. "We were trying to get home and this person—called herself the Purgatory Witch—offered to help out. Opened a portal. Only her aim was shit and..." he shrugs. "Here we are."

"Wait, where were you?" King bursts out, staring. "Don't tell me you guys were in—?!"

"Where else would we have been?" the other Meliodas says, looking at him oddly. "We were in Purgatory, of course."

 _Purgatory._ The prison where banished souls were sent. The accursed alternative to the Capital of the Dead, parallel to the world of the living. King hadn't even been sure it _existed._ And knowing the legends, he didn't want it to.

"I went there to get this guy out," that Ban continues, reminiscent. "Merlin sent me, in our time."

"And I was there because..." he stops to let out a long breath, looking, for the first time, uncomfortable. "It's a long story but..." he seems to have to swallow. "I'm... cursed."

Escanor sits up straighter. "Wh-what do you mean by that, C-Captain...?" he ventures. " _You're_ cursed, too...?"

"The Demon King cursed me, a long time ago." The other Meliodas, _their_ Meliodas, is the one to answer, now downcast himself. "He cursed me so that when I die, I..." he pauses to swallow. "I get sent to Purgatory, and not the Capital of the Dead. So he can, well... _eat_ ," he clarifies, to their increasing discomfort, more than one beginning to murmur among them. "It was my punishment for betraying the Demon Clan. I'm sure you've all heard about that by now," he adds, smiling, though it looked decidedly forced. "About how I ah... 'lit the fuse' for the war three thousand years ago, when I defected from the Ten Commandments."

Howzer was gaping now, staring openly at the other Meliodas, looking almost _morbidly_ fascinated despite himself. "D-does that mean that you—!?"

The second Meliodas flashes them all a faint sort of half-smile before undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Don't be too upset, alright?"

Seven, enormous, grisly-looking scars marred the expanse of his chest, stark against his otherwise unmarred skin. The sight made more than one recoil in shock, their Ban seeming almost unable to bear looking at them. The Meliodas of their time silently raised a hand to his own chest and exhales, long and slow. The scars were positioned directly over each of where his hearts would be. King was struck dumb at the sight. He was not alone in this.

He looked awkward as he re-buttoned his shirt once more. "You know, we didn't _mean_ to land in here but, uh, I'm not too upset that things turned out this way. I mean, dying _really_ hurts, you know!"

No one laughs; the memory of their Meliodas' near-death was still all-too-fresh in their minds. That _this_ one had died like that...

"... I left for Purgatory maybe a month or so, after now," that Ban says, at last, when the silence had grown altogether too stifling. "In my time, I couldn't save him..." his voice trails off, hands clenching into fists, and his own counterpart looks down with gritted teeth. "After I found out about that curse, I went to get him out as soon as I could. "

"B-but what about Britannia?" Diane asks hesitantly. Here, the Holy Knights, in particular, perk up, intent, interested, _fearful._ "What about Liones?"

"The Commandments went all out after the Captain died," he says tonelessly, smiling without any real mirth. "Britannia went to hell in a hand-basket. Just... demons, _everywhere,_ eating souls, burning towns, turning _other_ people into demons... Liones is still standing," he adds, to some relief. "But we were only barely keeping things together. Escanor was strong enough to keep the Commandments on the back-foot and so was Merlin, once she recovered—but the fuckin' bastards were _everywhere_ and we didn't have enough people to hold everything together. It was a fuckin' mess."

"Then why did you leave?!" Howzer demands, wide-eyed. Of all the Holy Knights, he looked the most revolted, the most sickened—though the rest weren't far behind, he was the most visible about his horror. "If we need all the help we can get, why did you _leave!?"_

In the silence that followed his outburst, Ban just stares at him for a long, _long_ moment. "... you think I'd leave my best friend in that hellscape once I found out he was trapped in there?"

Howzer turns beet-red. "Oh, uh, yeah—I mean! No! Of course not!" he stammers. The look on his face, the embarrassment in his tone—it wasn't much, but it helped bring some levity back into the proceedings, even with the morbid subject matter at hand. "No one would!"

"Anyway..." said best friend says, looking rather uncomfortable. "It's not like there wasn't a point in bringing me back. Melascula's still alive—both in our time and in here," he adds, to which their Ban looks to Elaine, grim-faced as they went to hold each other's hands. The other Ban has to look away from the sight. "She's an expert in manipulating the dead and their souls. If she ever got a hold of me..."

"She could bring me back," their Meliodas says, looking serious. "To fight against you."

The room was struck dumb. The thought was just too horrific to bear, not just having to fight the strongest Sin—and save for about an hour every day, he _was_ the undisputed strongest—but just the sheer _desecration_ of such an act, the atrocity of it all. King's feelings toward him were still mixed and all but, if he'd had to face against his Captain's risen, enthralled _remains,_ after having watched him die like that, knowing how much he'd had to endure only to be _used_ like that...

It was sick, just the _idea_ of it made him feel _sick._

"It's a good thing Sir Ban found you first," a pale-faced Arthur says. "I couldn't imagine what it would be like to fight _you,_ Sir Meliodas."

Both smile, though wanly. "And I would never want to," their Meliodas reassures him. "It's not going to happen. Not in this world."

" _Ever_ ," Gilthunder says fervently. He'd been near-hysterical ever since Meliodas had nearly died in Vaizel and while Merlin's message earlier had pacified him to an extent, that fear he'd felt for the Sin had only continued to simmer under the surface. After the Sins and Elizabeth, he was probably one of the most affected by everything that had happened. Right now, he looked more determined, more _driven_ than most had ever seen him before. "I won't ever let anything like that happen to you."

He smiles. "You shouldn't let that happen to _any_ of you," he teases. "But thanks, Little Gil," he adds sincerely. "I'll try not to die."

"You're not going to," their Ban mutters darkly. His eyes were distant and his knuckles were tight around Elaine's hand, though she didn't complain, only leaning against him in silent support, his other arm going to wrap around her in an almost unconscious motion. "I won't let them."

"N-none of us will," Escanor pipes up. "Never ever, Captain."

There's a show of agreement all around, even from King, though he was more subdued about it. Whatever happened, whatever he might suspect, he was never going to let him die, never going to let him get _used._ He wasn't sure if he was trustworthy but the years they'd spent fighting as allies, the days they'd spent hanging around as friends, and, even, those words he'd told him all those years ago, they _meant_ something. It wasn't like he—or any of them, really—would've let the Commandments have their way, but, in Meliodas' case, knowing that in at least one world, he actually _had_ died and that their own likely would have died as well had it not been for literal time travel, they were certainly going to be on guard now more than ever. They owed him that much.

While the future Ban looks unsurprised and even amused by the reaction, the future Meliodas looked almost _ridiculously_ touched—though theirs didn't show much of a reaction, like always. Given that _that_ one was, as he said, basically just a heart, Meliodas' heart, King had to wonder what theirs was truly thinking, what he truly felt about the protectiveness of them all.

There's a quiet after. It wasn't that they no longer had anything to say—far from it, really—but, for a moment, it seemed right to let the silence linger.

In the end, its the second Captain who breaks the silence.

"Hey, King? I've been meaning to ask. Who's your friend?"

He blinks. "... Who?" While there were still a few of the other unaffiliated festival attendees hanging around Castle Liones, the only ones in the Boar Hat were their allies... and Hendrickson, he thinks sourly. He supposed he could mean Gilfrost but they hadn't exactly been friendly with each other...

"That fairy behind you. You know..." He blinks, squints. "Light yellow-green hair, green eyes, long wings... any of that ring a bell?"

Everyone—almost everyone else only looks around, confused, but, as for him, his jaw drops, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as he stared.

 _Helbram._

"You can _see him?"_

"... shouldn't I be able to?" he asks, looking bemusedly from him to a spot just over his shoulder. He plops his helmet over his head and, yes, Helbram was indeed floating over there, looking every bit as confused as he felt. The fairy ghost flies over in a rush, stopping barely a foot in front of his face, eyes wide.

"I'm dead!" Helbram bursts out. "How can you _see me?!"_

He blinks. "Well, I did die, too," he says, rather as-a-matter-of-factly. It suddenly occurs to King that, aside from him, no one else can see or hear Helbram. "In the end, I am just a soul. That's probably it."

"What's going on?" he hears Howzer whisper.

"I believe they are talking about fairies," Gowther answers, not bothering to whisper. "And the second Captain's status as a soul."

"You have a ghost friend, King?" The future Ban was looking at him now from his place against the bar, interest warring with the amusement in his eyes. "I was wondering how your friend got here. Didn't remember him being around, back in our time. Coulda swore he was dead. How long has he been haunting ya, King?"

This makes him stare even _more._

 _"You can see him too?!"_

Then, because of _that_ of all things

Pandemonium ensued in the Boar Hat once more.

"There's a _ghost?!"_ Diane was shrieking. "Is this _normal_ for the Seven Deadly Sins?!"

"To my knowledge, we have never been haunted until today," Gowther was saying, but his voice was drowned out in all the shouting, which he himself didn't seem to mind.

"What are you guys _talking_ about?" their Meliodas was asking. "What's going on, me?"

"You can _see ghosts?!"_ their Ban was demanding, staring at his future self in disbelief, to which his said self only looked back, looking rather pleased with himself. "What the _fuck_ happened to you?! _Me?!"_

"G-g-ghosts?!" Jericho looked _terrified._ "First time travelers and now _this?!"_

"There aren't any evil spirits here that I can sense," Hendrickson was trying to reassure some of the terrified knights. "If there are ghosts here, they don't have any malicious intent."

Hawk, who'd finally managed to pluck himself from the crater that future Meliodas had left him in, coughs. "Hate to break it to you Hendy," he informs him. "But that doesn't really help."

"I know plenty of exorcism spells. I could protect you," Gilfrost suggests, eyes fixed on one person. "Gil."

But he wasn't listening, the Holy Knight's gaze fixated on both versions of his childhood idol as they talked amongst themselves. "I swear it," he was repeating. "I won't let it happen..."

Needless to say, it was a fair while and many drinks before they regained any sense of order once more, but, in the end, regain it they did.

"... And Helbram's been possessing my helmet ever since," King finishes. "He—he might be haunting me but that doesn't mean he's going to hurt people!"

Jericho _stares._ "We've been _haunted_ this whole time and you didn't say anything?!"

King looks from her, to the accusing, disbelieving eyes of some of their more scared companions, then, finally, to Helbram, currently in conversation with the future Captain, who, upon seeing him looking, only gives an airy shrug in response. A sort of whatcha-gonna-do-about-it. What was we he gonna do about it in _deed._

"It's not like he's hurting anyone," that Meliodas is the one to defend him, drawing their attention once more. "It's pretty common, actually! It shouldn't that big a deal. I mean, in a way, I'm a ghost, too."

"A very solid ghost," Merlin says, smiling wryly. "But, in essence, yes."

Their Meliodas coughs. "A _n_ yway, ghosts aside, Merlin and I've been talking with them ever since I woke up earlier. We've all agreed, _we_ — _"_ He gestures at them with his one arm. "—are going to help them get home and they'll tell us information that should help us against the Commandments. They beat more than one, even after the me there died."

At the explosion of shocked murmurs, the future Ban steps in, his eyes serious, arms crossed as he regarded them all. "It wasn't easy," he says. "The Captain died and it was... it was rough." For a moment, his voice broke and there was such self-loathing in his eyes that King couldn't bear to look at them, though the moment ends quickly and no one else seems to have noticed. "But we gave 'em _hell_. In our time, we dealt with at least _three_ of the Commandments. Permanently," he adds, eyes now alight with grim sort of satisfaction. "And that's after our Captain died. Should be a cakewalk for you guys, once you know what we know." Then he smirks. "Just so long as you don't try to take 'em all on at once just by yourselves."

The sight of both Meliodas suddenly looking away with innocent expressions startles a laugh out of them, despite the subject matter.

"... Aside from that, I'll tell you guys everything I already know about the Commandments," their Meliodas says when that laughter had finally died down. "It's been a long time and I can't say I know everything about them, but I can at least tell you what their Commandment curses are and what abilities I know they have. My memory's not perfect," he warns. "It's been three thousand years, after all! But... I'll tell you all I know."

King's jaw drops.

He obviously notices. "He's convinced me," was his answer to the unspoken question, indicating his future counterpart, to which that Meliodas gives a bright grin. "Finding out what happened if you don't _really_ changes your perspective on things! And, anyway..." here, he looks... not embarrassed, per se, but there is a certain hesitance in how he says the next few words. "There's nothing I don't know about them that I don't already trust you guys with. A lot of it's going to seem unbelievable but... just, trust me, I wouldn't lie to any of you about _this_ _._ "

 _Trust._

He trusted them with information and was going to tell them everything he knew.

That was...

That was everything he wanted, a show of trust, information, some actual honesty and yet somehow...

Despite all of that, despite this being what should be everything he wanted to hear, King felt... _uneasy..._

This was just... _too_ easy, somehow...

While he was lost in thought, the future Ban had been speaking.

"Buuut, even if we _do_ tell you everything we know, it's going to be worth jack _shit_ if you aren't strong enough to actually take advantage of it. So, while we're here..." here, he gives a bares his teeth in a grin that's more than a little unnerving, enough to make more than one of the Holy Knights fearful just by the sight of it. "I'm going to whip you into shape."

"Ban's gotten loads stronger," the future Meliodas says proudly, if unnecessarily given they'd all _seen_ him in action, felt the magnitude of his presence all the way from here even when the two'd been in Vaizel. "His experience in Purgatory caused a pretty explosive transformation on his body and soul—being able to see ghosts is the least he can do now. As for me, thanks to Purgatory, I've figured out a trick to breaking Commandment curses. I'm not..." here, he looks down. "I'm a lot weaker than I was but I can teach you— _myself_ that much."

"That sounds like _incredibly_ useful," Arthur bursts out, eyes wide and admiring, making Merlin smile fondly at him from her place at his side, in turn, making Escanor look desolate from his place by hers. "I thought those curses can only be broken by something on par with the magic of the goddesses—is that how Merlin was cured?" He whips around to face her, eyes growing wider. "Is it?!"

She only smiles indulgently in response. "You could say that he... _provided_ me the key I needed to break the curse," she allows. "Even if the manner in how he did was... _less_ than savory." She shoots him a pointed look as she enunciated the last three words, to which that Meliodas only looks away, his expression so innocent, it was obviously devious. "In any case, we're going to have much to do. Slader," she says, drawing that knight's attention. "Once the Captains finish telling what he knows, I would like you to disseminate that information among the Holy Knights of Liones."

"Your wish is my command, Big Sister."

"Gilthunder, Howzer, Jericho—I'm going to have you collect the materials I need to send these two back to their proper time. Would you do that?"

"Of course," was Gilthunder's immediate answer. "Anything to be of assistance."

"Sounds like a pain, but sure," despite his words, going by his expression, Howzer was eager to help. "Shouldn't be hard!"

Jericho looks from her, then to the Ban holding Elaine, then to the _other_ Ban, before looking away, cheeks red. "W-well, if it's to help Ban, I guess I don't mind doing just that much..."

Her smile was amused and suspect in equal measures. "While your enthusiasm is admirable, I'd advise some caution. Your task may be more... _difficult_ than you imagine."

As they were processing that enigmatic warning, Gilfrost suddenly stands. "Let me come with you!" he blurts out, looking beseechingly at Gilthunder. "I can be of use to you, I swear it! _You_ know I can." The last sentence, he directs at Merlin, tone turning insolent, almost petulant as he regards her, rather shocking those around him. "I can handle anything you ask of me."

Merlin's eyes lingered on the mage a fraction of a second longer than they did with the others. "... If you must," she eventually allows. "But only if they themselves are fine with it. Hendrickson, Princess Elizabeth—" she says, drawing their attention. "I would like you two to go back to Istar. I would have you pass some requests to the druids. You're acquainted with them, Hendrickson. I'm sure you can convince them."

Though the knight looked rather nauseated at the prospect, he nods. "C-Certainly..."

"As for you, Princess Elizabeth, you should be able to assist them in my requests and it will give you the perfect opportunity to further your own abilities. In addition, Hendrickson can teach you more on your way there. Would that be fine with you?"

"Of course!" Her expression was set and her visible eye was burning with determination. "I'll do anything!" Then, she hesitates. "But... what about Sir Meliodas? Won't he need healing, too...?"

"Leave that to me, Princess," the future Ban cuts in, one corner of his lip twitching as both she and his past counterpart turn to look at him. "He's going to be fine."

"Don't worry about me, Elizabeth," their Meliodas reassures her, eyes soft as he regarded her. "Just focus on yourself. I'll be fine." Then, he turns to look at Merlin, one eyebrow raised. "Merlin? I thought I was the Captain here."

She only smiles. "Certainly you are, _Captain,_ but be that as it may _,_ you're still on bed rest until you're fully recovered. I'm sure _everyone_ here agrees. Now, as for us Sins," she says, finally drawing King from his reverie. "For the time being, we're going to stay here, for _your_ protection. While the Commandments seem to have withdrawn, for the time being, you are still one of their primary targets. Until you've recovered, your protection will be of paramount importance. Does anyone disagree?"

He grumbles under his breath but doesn't protest, not when all of the Sins all but leapt to show support, from Escanor still in his midnight form to the still-mostly-amnesiac Diane, all of them looking determined, protective, with that time's Ban, in particular, seeming to burn with resolve. In contrast, his counterpart was smiling, eyes warm and bright.

"Don't be like that," he whispers, very lightly elbowing himself in the ribs. "You did nearly die." Then, wistfully: "Our friends are great, aren't they?"

He grunts, and that's that.

"In any case," Merlin was saying. "We still have much to discuss but, by the end of this, I believe we may have the advantage over the Demon Clan. It won't be easy, of course, even given everything we will learn, but I believe defeating the Commandments is within sight."

"And it only took you guys magic time travelers to get there," the future's Ban quips. He seemed amused and, when you put it like that, the circumstances were more than ridiculous, they were absolutely _insane._ And yet, knowing even what little they did of the world they'd come from, this was infinitely preferable to how it could've been. "While we're here, we'll do what we can to help. In the meantime, I didn't spend all that time cooking just for you guys to _waste_ it."

"Besides," the future's Meliodas says, before King could blurt out in his disbelief at the _audacity_ of him. A feast? Now? _Really?!_ "It's been a... a really long time since I've seen you guys." He pauses and... it could've just been King's imagination, he could've sworn there'd been a hitch in his throat and actual _tears_ in his eyes as he'd said it. "And... I'd like to celebrate it! You're going to have a lot of work to do but, for now... "

"Let's drink!" their Meliodas finishes for him, grinning. "Believe me, you're going to need it."

"I know I already do," their Ban mutters. For a moment, there's something very gloomy about the way he holds himself but then Elaine places her hand on his and the moment ends with him grinning in his usual devil-may-care way. "Gotta say, I still can't fuckin' wrap my head around all of this... time travel business."

The future's Ban laughs. "Neither can I," he admits. "And I'm the one who time-traveled."

"Think about it this way," the future's Meliodas pipes out. "This is actually for the best! I didn't have to die, you're going to get all the information you need... if you think about it, it's actually a good thing we landed here!"

"Yes," Gilthunder declares, looking almost reverent. "It might've been by accident but your arrival, it saved you, _us_ —it averted a tragedy. I can't imagine how we could've survived against those... those _monsters..._ in a world where we might have to fight you as an enemy..."

"I can imagine," Hendrickson mutters, shuddering briefly, eyes darkening at the memory. King refuses to let himself feel any sympathy for him. "I'm going to have to remember to bring some offerings for the journey to Istar, to thank the Supreme Deity for this miracle..."

For whatever reason, both Meliodas' smiles suddenly turned very strained. "Don't," the one from the future says, looking horribly uncomfortable. "Just... don't."

"Yeah, definitely... _don't,"_ his counterpart says, nodding, before Hendrickson could interject. "Just... trust me. If anything... the one to thank is the Purgatory Witch."

The future's Ban laughs. "Yeah, if it weren't for her shit-aim, this Britannia'd be on a road to hell in a hand-basket by this time."

Their Ban suddenly stands, a full tankard in his hands. "A toast," he declares, and they all scramble to grab whatever drinks are at hand as he raised his high. "To the Purgatory Witch!"

"The Purgatory Witch!"

"May your aim continue being complete _crap_ ," the future's Ban finishes. "Forever!"

It was the first drink they'd all had that night and as the night went on and some of the more outlandish explanations began, it turned out that it was only the first of many.

* * *

 _The ragged, cloaked figure kneels._

 _"You. Creature. What is your name?"_

 _The Witch smiles._

 _"... I believe I have heard of you."_

 _A hand is extended. It is a friendly hand._

 _"I am the one known as the Purgatory Witch. It is a pleasure to meet you."_

 _A handshake between a hand gloved in patchwork tatters and a wild boar's hoof_

 _"Yes. They have already left. I opened a door for them."_

 _The figure stands. At full height, the Witch looms over the surrounding area._

 _"And if you so desire it, I can send you through the same way."_

 _The ancient bone staff flickers like an old ember_

 _"Although... j-just so we're clear, my aim is not..."_

 _The winds whip and whirl_

 _"W-well, if you're sure..."_

 _The staff ignites anew._

 _._

 ** _t̛̬̻̗͕͕̗̪̍͊̇͆̾̈͐̆̚h̷̹̙̗̹͚͎̩̰̆̓̂͑͋ȇ̵̻̜̘͙̣͍͔̍̒̋͞ ď̵̪͖̤̜͔͉̺̊̍̋̀̆̈́̂̄̕ờ̢̥̺͇̍͋͢͝ő̧͎̰̰̾̒̾͊͜ŗ̶͇̤̯̳͈͍͚̌̅̂̊͌̒̾̇͘ i̛̩̺̳͉̪̼͌̎̑̄͒̍̕͟͜͝s̶̡̬͉͍͍̝̈́̃̄̍͢͞͞͞ ŏ̴̡̰͓͚̺̣̥̉̇̎͐͑͘̕͝͞ͅp̡̧̨̧̜̦̠̦̐̿͛̈́̋́é̢̬̦̣̠͙̜͈̂̽̊̃̽͌̐̕͜ͅn̢͇͚̳̭̓̓̄̂̍͆̂̀̐̚.̷͎̙̫̖̜͚̦̘́́͋̾͊̕͠͡ ȩ̴̨̢̧̹̣̗̙̯̘͂͐͂̔̉̈́̂͞n̢̦͖̰̉̈́͐̔̿̕͜͢t̹̞̯̤͍̼̤͇̏̐̏̈́̇̆ȩ̫͈͔̫̗͚̳͎̺͊͌͂̀̈́̓̈͑͡ŕ͓̣͕͓̹̬͇̟̃͑̿̽̀̇,͎͚̝̺̜̣̜͕͙̉̈́̇̈́͟͞ i̷̡̛͔̟̺̞͔̗̲̐̆̓̀̊̏̈́ͅf̷͍̝̗̺̞̫̗͐̿̏͢͠͠ y̶̧̮̻̟̗̋́̅̾́́͌͟ớ̡̩̜̯̞͍͆̈̎̔͋̓̈͘ͅu̙̝̜̳̮͎̬̦̠̓́̎̌̍̍͐̒͒ w̺̜̬͙̝͓͍̻̹̄̐̓̏͂́́̀͟ï̷̢̡͔͎̥͚̾̇́̽̂̇͝͠l̷̢͖͔̺̭̿̾͛̽͠͞l̡̼͔̞̘̅͗̒̒̿̀̃̇̕͢͟͞_**

.

.

* * *

Many hours later, he's smiling and laughing with the rest of them as he excuses himself from the proceedings but the minute he enters the upstairs washroom, he rushes for the toilet and _heaves,_ blood and bile burning his throat on the way up. Even with his hearts restored, with his body healing, he felt _awful._ Which was just stupid, he's spent over a day in bed, been healed twice over by both Ban's Gift and Elizabeth's healing magic, and still, after doing _nothing_ but talk and eat whatever he's managed to choke down, here he was, out of breath in front of a toilet, barely able to stand. Pathetic, he was just _pathetic._

 _"Gift!"_

Warmth suddenly flooded his body, not the instantaneous relief of druidic healing magic but a rush of energy that seemed to seep into his system, encouraging it to put itself back together. He looks up shakily from his place by the toilet, still gasping even as that magic slowly began to ease the pain and restore some of his energy. It was—well, it wasn't unexpected, who it was.

"Cap'n, I _told_ you to call me if you needed anything!"

Somehow, Ban was by his side before he'd even noticed him come in, concern obvious in his eyes even through his frustrated glare.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" his voice comes out as a rasp; his throat was hoarse and burning. He wipes at the bloody bile staining his mouth before trying to stand. It's only because Ban is there that he doesn't fall. "When did you get here...?"

"I came up to look after _you_. Duh." Despite his words, his expression was still obviously concerned as he helped him to his feet—and it's downright pathetic but his legs almost give out when he does. He does manage to stand, if only by the virtue of the death grip he has on his friend's arm, not that the immortal complains. "You look awful." Then: "... Want me to carry you?"

"D-do I look _that_ bad to you?" he tries to joke, but Ban doesn't look amused.

"You were spewing blood not three seconds ago," he points out expression, for once, quite serious. "You look like shit," he says bluntly. "And I don't blame you for it. C'mon, Cap'n, get on, I'm carrying you. No complaining."

"You're overreacting," he tells him. All the same, he obligingly got on as the Fox's Sin pulled him up onto his back in a piggyback carry, closing his eyes and leaning in against the familiar warmth. "I'm _fine."_

"Suuure you are." He stands, seemingly not even noticing his weight. "You know, if you were feeling sick earlier, you should've just _said._

"Earlier, I just... needed to use the toilet," he manages, after coughing to clear his throat. "I was fine until just now. I'll be _fine._ Seriously, you're making a big deal out of this."

"By this point, in my time, you were dead," Ban points out. Even after all this time, there was a haunted note in his voice as he remembers that awful time. He forces himself to sound more normal after but he had already heard it. "All things considered, I think I'm reacting _completely_ appropriately, Cap'n."

He doesn't know what to say to that so he only grunts.

"Just take it easy, alright?" he continues. "I'll get you tucked in and have your Princess come up to see to you. That sound good?"

"... Sounds fine."

His bed was only a few steps away from the upstairs washroom and the moment he's there, he honestly almost just wants to sink into the sheets and into oblivion, maybe just escape it all for another few hours before they had to go back to the headache that was their ludicrous situation. Nevertheless, he forces his eyes open.

"... think they bought it?"

Ban doesn't even look at him, he was rummaging through the cupboards for fresh blankets to replace the bloody ones on his bed. "Why wouldn't they?" he grunts. "S'not like _they_ know. For now."

He closes his eyes and leans back against his pillows. "I guess you're right," he says quietly. "I just hope the Sins won't mind too much..."

"You kiddin'?" That seemed to amuse him. "Believe me, Cap'n, you volunteering to tell us anything's rare as hell. _I_ won't mind, I can tell you that."

"You're already my best friend!" he points out, as if that answered everything. "As for everyone else..."

"It'll be _fine._ " Having found the clean blankets, Ban actually goes and tucks him in and, _just this once_ , he thinks to himself, he lets him. It's... oddly comforting, all things considered. "It's not that big a deal."

He opens his eyes. "I guess. It's just... I'm _alright_ with _you_ guys knowing the details, but... if it's possible, I'd like to just keep it all to just the Sins. It's not that I don't trust little Gil or Hendrickson or anything, it's just—"

"It's fine, Cap'n," he cuts him off. "You don't need to explain yourself, not to me, of all people. They all know what they need to know and that's enough."

"... does Gowther already know the plan?" he asks, after some time.

"The other you's talked to him about it, don't worry," he says reassuringly. "Really now, just get some rest. We can handle things from here. Everything's gonna be fine."

Despite knowing what he knows, despite knowing what could be, he lets himself believe. Only then does he finally let himself rest.

Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Back at the grounds of castle Camelot, Estarossa was preparing himself, standing in the center of a swirling storm of darkness as, one by one, various _pests_ were transformed by his power, the animals they'd plucked from the kennels and stables screaming in agony as their blood boiled and their bodies changed, swelling and bloating as their flesh muscled and gristled as his magic seared through their veins. More than one only explode in the process, their bodies unable to handle the strain of such a forcible metamorphosis but he doesn't care. If they didn't survive something so _simple_ , they obviously weren't worth bothering with in the first place.

Shame he couldn't have the humans, he muses. They were reserved for Grayroad to transform, of course, but it would've been such _fun_ seeing if any of those puny gnats could handle his power...

Now, having finished transforming every animal within Camelot's borders, he sends them out in the routes they'd discussed, meant to target what Fraudrin remembered of where the population was high and souls were abundant, all of the demons he'd made—save just one small group, a trio of the strongest from this batch.

 _This_ little squad, he meant to guide himself, off to a certain kingdom Fraudrin had been all too pleased to babble about, going on and on about its potential and the strength of its protectors and by the damned _stars_ , he could just gag at the weakness of him. It was filled with strong souls and they needed strength. That was all he needed to know before picking that place as his own personal target.

And if his path just so _happened_ to cross with that of his brother and the rest of his allies, well, that wouldn't be his fault now, would it?

Zeldris, of course, boring stick-in-the-mud that he was, had advised caution but why should he?

Why the hell should he fear _anything?_ His own older brother, the infamous former paragon of the Demon Clan, he'd lain low before him, his strongest attack stopped with just one hand. That _intruder's_ repulsive attacks had barely left a scratch on him. Sure, he'd gotten _away,_ cowardly little _insect_ , but he'd barely been able to hurt him in the first place. And as for that little _pest,_ the one that had so troubled his pathetic allies, he had barely lasted a second before exploding at just a simple bit of transformation.

Why should he fear them at all?

He was the best, after all. He has nothing to fear.

And so, away from the other Commandments, away from his brother Zeldris' prying eyes, amidst the flight of the hundreds of newly-transformed demons, he manifests dark wings and flies for Liones.

He was looking forward to seeing his big brother again.

* * *

 **Good Lord, writing this was tough. Fun. But tough. Just like the bean-spilling one smol bean's gonna have to go through in the near future.**

 **As much as I'd like to say I'll update in two weeks-ish, as usual, it's finals season so... well, no guarantees. I'll _try_ to finish by April 21, anyway. If not... well, this was pretty long, right? Gimme a day or two as compensation...**

 **Feedback keeps me going and I hope you have a nice day.**

 **EDIT: Okay, yeah, finals week's gotten me pretty beat and I've barely had the time to write. Change of plans, I'll try and have it finished by this Wednesday and I'm really, _really_ sorry for the delay but school does have to come first.**

 **Wednesday! April 24!**


	7. The Rest of the Evening

***casts Resurrect on self***

 **I'm alive! Really sorry about the delays, finals season's always rough. On the bright side, though, I finally got that award I wanted! Worth it~**

 **Didn't have much time I'm afraid,** **even with the delay,** **but enjoy! I hope.**

 **EDIT: Fixed errors.**

* * *

While the Sins and knights were caught up in the explanations-turned-celebrations in the Boar Hat, outside, the knight who had introduced himself as Silver stood alone on the balcony of the castle grounds as he observed the ongoing spectacle, what little the windows of it showed, arms crossed and a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he listened to it all, the indignant yelps, the shrieking laughter, the pure, unadulterated _happiness_ he could hear even from here, even from afar.

"They've grown up so much," he remarks, voice soft, eyes gentle. "I'm so proud of them all."

"You should be," a new voice comments. "They've grown up so much, it's actually kind of crazy."

The knight is unsurprised as he looks low to meet the intruder's gaze, that of the second Meliodas, arms crossed behind his head and his expression quite cheerful as he regarded him. He hadn't seen him coming, of course, but that wasn't surprising. He was used to this from the enigmatic man.

"Sir Meliodas," he greets, with an incline of his head that seemed almost formal, though, behind his helmet, his smile was jovial and his eyes, friendly. "It's good to see you looking well."

"Right back at you!" he says brightly. "Though, I can't say I expected to see _you_ , of all people. Especially not back there at the festival, _'Silver'."_

"And I can't say I expected to see _two_ of you," the knight says, taking off his helmet, freeing his long silver hair and revealing his friendly smile for all the world to see. Though noticeably older and more worn, his face was near-exactly the same as that of a certain Diamond-ranked Holy Knight _—_ though his smile was notably more carefree and his blue eyes held a levity Gilthunder's had never really had, not since _this_ one had died all those years ago. "But here we are, Sir Meliodas."

Meliodas grins right back. "Zaratras," he says cordially. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Zaratras holds back a laugh. "Only a _little."_

The silence that follows is a comfortable one, all things considered. For several minutes, the two formerly-dead men stood side-by-side, doing nothing but listen to the ongoing revelry. For Zaratras, this was not something he ever could've expected. If anyone had told him that a mere day or so after the events at Vaizel, he would be in Castle Liones, listening to the Sins and their Holy Knight allies as they drank and ate and all around celebrated the fact that, for the moment, they were all _alive_ and, for the most part, in one piece, while standing next to a seemingly-hale Meliodas, he would've only laughed.

But here he was. And he wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world

Then, Meliodas tilts his head in the direction of the Boar Hat. "You know, Ban knows the recipe for Black Cat's Yawn fish pie," he says casually. Zaratras stiffens though Meliodas doesn't seem to take notice. "He baked a ton earlier for the reunion and they're just as good as the original."

"I doubt it," he mutters. Meliodas' little smile only broadens in response. "The Black Cat's Yawn tavern makes the best fish pies in the world."

"But it's true!" he rebuts cheerfully. "You should go and see for yourself. Little Gil's up there, you know," he adds, casually, as if he didn't know already, as if Zaratras hadn't been _painfully_ aware of his son's presence since he'd come back from the dead. "He's probably eaten through half the pies by now! They're his favorite, just like you."

For a moment, Zaratras only smiles.

Then.

" _I know they are!_ " he wails, loud enough to startle birds into flight, to bring myriad knights and guards scurrying into defensive positions around Castle Liones, to make the other Meliodas back at the Boar Hat blink sleepily awake before he dismissed the noise and went back to sleep once more. Zaratras was absolutely _hysterical._ "He used to love them _so much_ and we used to share pies whenever I got home and it was the best part of my evenings! And now he's all grown up and—and I never even got to watch him _grow_ and—what am I supposed to _do?!"_

In contrast, the Meliodas at his side seemed as unruffled as he always was. "You should go up and see him," he points out calmly. "He's missed you a lot. It would mean the world to him to see you again."

Zaratras _stares._ "And just how am I supposed to do that?! His _dead father_ showing up out of the blue _—_ he might just have a _heart attack!_ And what if—what if..." here, he actively has to suppress a shudder, eyes wide with a horror Meliodas actively has to suppress a laugh at. "What if he doesn't even _recognize_ me?!" he wails. "If that happens, I think _I'd_ be the one to have a heart attack!"

Meliodas only continued to look at him, completely unphased. "... You two look near identical," he points out. "He's not stupid."

Zaratras doesn't seem to hear. "And, anyway!" he was continuing to rant. "He's always liked _you_ best and with _two_ of you, why in the world would he need me?!" He sags. "Why in the world would he even need me?" he whispers hollowly. "He's already all grown up. He doesn't need me anymore. Why would he?"

"Because you're his father," Meliodas answers plainly. "And he loves you. He's fought to avenge you for the last ten years." He tilts his head slightly to one side. "You owe him for that, at least. And, anyway, little Gil's my friend and all but I'm not his father," he says, to which the knight only looks away, grumbling under his breath. _"Neither_ of me are," he continues. "And, besides, you're always going to be more important to him than I am. You were a great dad," he says, smiling encouragingly, though his eyes were far away. "Little Gil's grown up to be a great man. But he still has a lot to learn and you owe it to him to be there for him, while you're still here. You know you won't be here forever."

For a few moments, Zaratras is quiet. Then, after releasing a long, _long_ sigh, he droops. "You've become awful sentimental since I last saw you, Sir Meliodas," he grumbles, perhaps a tad sourly, even a little accusingly, to which that Meliodas only snickers.

"It's been a long time, after all!" he says, tone _irritatingly_ chipper. "You could say that, right now, I'm all heart."

Zaratras scoffs, though the amusement in his expression rather belied the effect. "All heart... you're still as much of an unassuming monster as ever. You know exactly where it hurts," he grouses. "And I know. You're right," he does say, if a tad begrudgingly. "I'll... see him."

By the look on his face, one might think he'd just steeled himself for an execution rather than a family reunion with his beloved son, who loved him just as much.

Meliodas can only sigh. "Geez, Zaratras..."

It is then that they hear a strum of a lute.

"You should listen to him, druid knight! After all, when it comes to relationships between fathers and sons, Meliodas is _infamously_ incomparable."

It was that little bard who'd been paired with Howzer in the fighting festival, watching them while seated atop a window sill from a floor above them, smiling like a cat that's caught the canary. The strings on the lute on that bard's lap seemed to glow in the moonlight.

"It's rude to eavesdrop, you know," Meliodas says, to which the bard only snickered, lute-strumming somehow sounding almost sardonic. He tilts his head to one side as he considers the intruder, eyes narrowing. "I know you. Your name, it's Solatido, isn't it?" Then he smiled, shark-like. "Or is it _Sariel?"_

In turn, the bard's smile never wavered. "Doremifa Solatido is the name by which I was born, _good_ _sir knight_ ," was all the bard answered, words in said trilling sing-song and accompanied with a fanciful strum of the lute. "Nothing more, nothing less~"

One corner of his lip twitched. "I see," he says noncommittally. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There's a trill of a laugh. "Not long enough, from my perspective!" the bard remarks cheerfully, not that it did a thing to belie the disdain in the voice, the contempt in the eyes. "But here we are."

Zaratras looked lost. "Er... Sir Meliodas?"

"You might want to stay back," he whispers only barely loud enough for Zaratras to hear. Then, in his normal tone of voice: "An old comrade," without looking away from the diminutive bard. He would've sounded almost casual had he not said what he had before he did, had he not just placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes narrowed into slits. "From before your time."

"Long before," the bard concurs. Not once does the bard bother to spare Zaratras a glance, hard eyes fixed solely on the Sin beside him. "Though you're not _exactly_ Meliodas, are you?"

At this, Zaratras looks surprised, even alarmed, but the Meliodas is unruffled. "Nishishi! Actually, you could say I am _exactly_ him."

The bard only scoffs. "Spare me your wordplay," was the blunt response. "I know exactly what you are, _hollowed soul._ Though I will admit, it is impressive you were able to escape to begin with."

"I had a lot of help," Meliodas replies, smiling cryptically. The bard's eyes narrow even further. "So you know, don't you?" he asks. "About what they did to us?"

"Of course I do," the bard answers swiftly. "Few of my kind are unaware of what they did to you, to the Lady Elizabeth." At Elizabeth's name, for the briefest moment, the bard's voice broke. Meliodas pays it no apparent heed, though his eyes had darkened and his jaw went tight. "And many of them believe it was exactly what _you_ deserved."

"And you?" he asks. His eyes were harder than steel. "Do you think _she_ deserved any of it?"

The bard looks down. "I wish she had never gotten involved with you at all." The bard's voice was bitter, for once without any melodic lilt. "Whatever you may have done, I would've never wished her to come to harm."

After a long moment, Meliodas exhales, tension leaving his stance as he let go of his grip on his sword, though his eyes were hollow. "I understand," he says quietly. "For what it's worth, if I could've taken all of their punishments, I would've."

The pain in his voice is almost palpable. Zaratras wanted to speak, to comfort him somehow. If it weren't for the bard's presence, he might've tried.

And, for the first time, however begrudging it might have been, there was now a certain respect in the bard's eyes. "... I know. Your dedication to the Lady Elizabeth is... admirable." It looked like it almost pained the bard to admit it. "And the Lady Princess Elizabeth has always been taken by you," the bard remarks. Though there was no change in expression, there was now a distaste to the sound of the strummed strings. "And I respected her wishes. Though I personally never understood how she had become so dedicated to one of _your_ kind to begin with... much less _you._ "

Instead of becoming offended, the words only make Meliodas laugh. "I don't either," he says honestly. "I suppose _your_ kind thought I was brainwashing her, somehow." Now, there was something sardonic to the twist of his smile. "Which is funny. _My_ kind thought the opposite. It was your specialty, after all. Then again, yours always were so much holier-than-we, weren't they? Nishishi! _"_

The bard doesn't bother to take the bait. "As if someone like Lady Elizabeth could be hoodwinked by the likes of _you,"_ was the carelessly given answer. "Understand this, _hollowed soul,_ I don't care for _you_ at all," the bard says bluntly. "But I know that Lady Elizabeth does. And for all your many, _many_ faults... you care for her just as much."

"I love her," he confirms easily. He said it with all the certainty of a man saying an axiom of life, a fact more certain than his own name. The simple forthrightness of the statement from the notoriously evasive Meliodas made Zaratras blink, surprised, cheeks slightly reddening."And she loves me, too."

Finally, the strumming comes to a halt, ending on a jarringly discordant note as the bard's grip turned on the instrument tightened, knuckles turning white. "If we didn't know you did, if we didn't know _she_ did, we would've had your head years ago."

Despite himself, Zaratras shivers at the ice in the bard's tone.

Meliodas looks unsurprised. "I know," he says, nodding. "Still, no matter what you think, my plans haven't changed. I'm still dedicated to the plan she and I made, all those years ago."

The bard begins to pluck at the strings once more. "... I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

Here, finally, Meliodas smiles and it looked genuine. "The Sins and I are going to stop the Ten Commandments," he calls out. "I don't know what you guys are planning but if you're aiming for that, too, we'd be happy to have you as our allies."

The answering laughter is a trilling, almost mocking sound.

"We already know what happens when we ally with _you_ ," the bard says scornfully. "But I suppose we'll consider it. _Only_ for Lady Elizabeth's sake, of course."

He lets out a chuckle. "As expected," he says cheerfully. "Where will you go until then?"

The bard first looks at him consideringly before finally just shrugging. "The dwelling of the druids, wherever that is today. One would hope those silly things haven't forgotten _everything_ in our absence, but I'm not optimistic about our chances."

Though he'd been doing his best to keep quiet since the whole conversation between the two had begun, the normally laidback Zaratras actually looked outright offended, unable to fully suppress a sound of indignation.

"You might be surprised," Meliodas answers for him, grinning. "Just look at Zaratras here!"

Here, finally, the bard looks to Zaratras, the druid Holy Knight shifting into a more professional stance under the intensity of the bard's gaze.

"... you're not bad," the bard eventually admits. "Despite your circumstances, _revenant,_ you don't seem _too_ dim. For a human."

Despite the fact that the bard was shorter than even Meliodas, there is something in the bard's eyes that leaves Zaratras... discomfited. "Thank you, Miss er... Solatido?"

Before the bard could speak up, Meliodas shakes his head. "His name is Sariel. He's one of the Four Archangels," he informs him, watching with some amusement as the druid's expression rapidly turned into one of awe and supplication... even if the tension never quite left his stance. "His Grace is Tornado."

The Archangel inclines the head he was occupying in a polite gesture of welcome. "Charmed, I'm sure," he says, though his voice came out toneless, disinterested enough that Zaratras looked almost put-out. It wasn't every day you met an elite member of the clan your own clan revered. Rarer still that you were outright snubbed by them.

Then, Sariel's expression changed.

"Oh, don't be like that!"

The voice was different now, cheerier and more sincere-sounding to his ears. The bard was smiling at him now, expression one of impish good humor. " _I,_ for one, am happy to make your acquaintance! Both of you!"

While Zaratras was trying to comprehend the sudden shift in behavior, Meliodas grins back. "Nice to meet you, Solatido," he says cheerfully.

The Archangel's vessel flashes him a brief but genuine-seeming smile. "And, you, as well, _demon's heart_ ," she sings. "Mister Sariel's told me so many stories about you." She smiles. "Most of them bad."

"I'm sure," he says, nodding. Then: "I was wondering if he was keeping you locked under," he comments. "Nice to know you still have volition."

"Mister _Sariel?!"_ The bard seemed shocked at the very thought. "Oh, no, not at all! We have a deal, after all. He's been a perfect gentleman besides." Then, she giggles. "As much as circumstances allow, at least," she says, her voice a teasing trill. "But he's not the sort to... take advantage of a girl's body like that."

"That sounds wrong, coming from someone like you," he remarks, to which the little bard giggles. "Even knowing what you're talking about."

"Mister Sariel would never do anything so unbecoming," Solatido professes, though her smile was coy. "Mister Tarmiel, either, from what he's told me." Then she tilts her head slightly to one side. "Though I do hear Mister Ludociel might!"

"Yeah, he's a jerk," he agrees. "Don't ever make any deals with him, alright?"

She laughs. "I would never betray _my_ Mister Sariel like that," she declares. "It really was very nice to meet you, oh, heart of a demon," she says sincerely. "Mister Sariel doesn't want you to know but if you ever have need of us, he plans on re-starting Stigma again, once Mister Tarmiel finally comes to an agreement with someone appropriate. I _do_ hope we could all work together when the time comes, your Sins and the Archangels' Stigma."

"I hope so, too," he tells her. "Good luck in Istar."

"I-I have a map!" Zaratras manages, pulling out a rough square of folded parchment and proffering it with a flourish. He was still staring and, by his expression, he still had a lot of questions but, at the very least, he'd processed enough to know that he likely wouldn't want to hear them without ale and multiple fish pies in his system. "For Istar! Let me give it to you! It's the least I can do for you, Sir Sariel."

The bard grins. "I'm Solatido," she informs him. "But Mister Sariel says 'thanks'." She swipes the map off of his hands, unfolding it with an extravagant flourish. She smiles fondly upon reading it. "Oh, Mister Sari _el~_ It looks like you were _completely_ wrong about where Istar was going to be!"

Then her demeanor changed. Though the outward appearance remained the same, the expression, the posture... everything else, really, had shifted.

The one who spoke next was not Solatido, that much was clear.

"Thank you, druid," Sariel says curtly. The back of his neck had gone red, visible even given the shawl the bard wore. "I won't forget what you've done for us, today."

Four feathered wings shimmered into existence at his back.

"Remember this, Meliodas," he says, "I don't care for you or any of your kind... but it would go against Lady Elizabeth's wishes if you were to come to harm. For her sake, and not for anyone else, I will fight to ensure your continued survival. From this day forth."

Here, finally, Meliodas, the one from the _future_ no less, is the one to blink, absolutely _stunned._

"I could _never_ do anything to disrespect to Lady Elizabeth's wishes. I know she would want this," he says, looking almost offended at his expression. "I'm sure Tarmiel feels the same."

Those wings began to flair outwards as he began to ascend.

"... just don't expect any of the others to think the same way."

And, with that, Sariel (and Solatido) disappeared, gone from view in a whisper of wind, leaving only a handful of feathers fluttering in their wake.

"... Bye," Meliodas says, perhaps belatedly.

Zaratras merely stood, stunned, by his side.

"... So, Zaratras, do you want to go back to talking about little Gil? Or would you like me to explain what just happened?"

There is a beat.

There's really only one thing Zaratras can say to that.

"Yes."

* * *

It takes him four drinks before King finally feels brave enough to go upstairs.

It's been a good few hours since they'd explaining everything and, by now, the proceedings had devolved from a meeting to an outright party, apparently just as the Captain from the future had intended. (And, _wow,_ even with the alcohol, this whole future business was _still_ confusing.)

For the most part, everyone who'd arrived earlier were still there, from the Holy Knights (and Hendrickson, he adds sourly) firing question after question at the future Ban, who, for the most part, was answering as well as Ban could be expected to, to Merlin apparently giving an enraptured Arthur a lecture while Gilfrost and Escanor watched, one glaring daggers, the other staring longingly, Diane trying to sample everything Ban had cooked ("Did we used eat like this _everyday?"_ she had asked, looking delighted. "Is this _normal_ for us as the Seven Deadly Sins?!") with Hawk providing a running commentary as she ate ("Don't eat them all!" he was still squealing. "Leave some scraps for me!"), to even Gowther doing as he always did in social gatherings: sitting in a corner and staring blankly at everyone else as they interacted. The only ones missing were the Captains and Elizabeth _,_ the future one to talk to one of the knights outside (what _was_ the deal with that?), and theirs because he'd apparently collapsed _—_ though he honestly still had a hard time believing that _—_ with Elizabeth having gone up to care for him, leaving everyone else behind.

He has questions for the future Captain, too, of course (who didn't?), but it was their Captain that he was going to talk to right now. Even with everything they'd said and explained, from the powers of the Commandments, to their identities, to how some of them had been defeated in their future, there was still something... _off_ about it all and he wanted answers.

Now, King doesn't _want_ to distrust him. He really doesn't. He meant what he'd said. All he really wanted was to be shown that the Captain trusted them back.

And, while in _theory,_ he'd been given everything he wanted... there was just something _off_ about the explanations. Certainly, he's sure they haven't once lied about the Commandments or their powers, or the capabilities of demons in general, but something about the way they'd all explained it that made him... suspicious.

He can feel it in his gut. They were hiding something. Something massive.

He really doesn't _want_ to be suspicious, not after everything that's happened, but...

He just...

He has to _know._

He finds the Captain was sitting up in bed, propped up against about half a dozen pillows, and he looked... well, _awful._ For all that he'd seemed as normal as could be back when he'd welcomed them earlier, now, his face was pale and beaded with sweat, and his breathing sounded shaky even from afar. Now that his shirt was off, all the bandaging on his torso was visible, and the regrowing stump he'd briefly shown was bared in all its gory detail. Beyond that, there was a hollowness to his cheeks, a weariness to the very way he was slumped against his pillows. Earlier, he'd looked fine, lack of limb aside, but now... he looked as they'd expected him to. A person who'd only barely managed to cling to life.

He hesitates by the door. Alcohol aside, liquid courage or no, he didn't think he could find it in him to ask for anything, not when the Captain looked like _this._

Maybe it could wait until morning...?

As he was considering this, Elizabeth walked into view from inside the room, a basin full of washcloths held in her hand, expression fraught with worry. "Sir Meliodas, if you were feeling sick earlier, you should've said so!" he hears her saying, the Princess obviously distraught but her voice carrying an absolutely ironclad ring of conviction. "Sir Meliodas, I..."

"I know," he hears him saying. He was smiling, despite everything, and the expression was a soft one. And, suddenly, King feels almost like a voyeur. Even though technically speaking, all they were really doing was talking with each other, there was something... intimate about the moment. Private. The sheer warmth and regard in the Captain's gaze as he looked at her made King want to look away, almost flustered. "I'm going to be fine, now that you're here."

Even from here, King could see her as her cheeks turned pink.

Then

"Hey, Elizabeth...?" he hears their Captain saying, actually sounding hesitant for the first time since they'd met. "Did you... mean what you said, back there About... _liking_ it when I _—"_

 _NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE_

He comes hurtling out of the nearest window and into the safety of the great outside, face burning red, hands firmly fastened over Chastiefol's pillow form as he wrapped it firmly around his head, protecting him from _any more_.

Everything he needed to ask... it could wait until morning. Yeah. Definitely.

Unbidden, the scene replays in his head, and his cheeks burn even redder as he squeaks.

 _NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE_

... He needs more than four drinks to deal with this.

But still, it kept _replaying_. The uncharacteristic hesitance in the Captain's voice as he said the words. The actual _words themselves_

 _"... liking it when I—"_

 _NOPENOPENOPE_

... he was going to have to ask Gowther about doing some memory erasure for him.

* * *

Through all the revelry that occurred that evening, through the drinks and merriment ongoing within Castle Liones, in Castle Camelot, the fully-recovered Grayroad meets the faces of each and every one of the humans they'd taken prisoner, examining them, assessing them.

As one, all of her faces smile.

As one, all of the humans scream.

It was going to be a long evening for everyone.

* * *

 **Sorry about all the delays. As much as I love writing this, school does have to come first, after all. Rest assured, I have zero plans on abandoning this. It's kind of my baby and I love it. Warts and everything else I'm doing my best to minimize.**

 **(BTW, if anyone spots any errors, mention them, please. I do my best but stuff slips through...)**

 **Anyway, as per usual, gimme two weeks. Not sure if anyone trusts me on these anymore but May 8, assuming all goes to plan.**

 **So was this good? Bad? Okayish? Tell me! Feedback's what keeps me going and have a nice day.**

 **EDIT: Okay, had a bit of an accident and nothing's going to plan. I'll do my best to release the next chapter as soon as possible but, eh, can't promise a specific date by this point in time.**


	8. The New Day

**"It had, indeed, been a long night for everyone, but all nights must come to an end as surely as the dawn. When the sun finally rose, it brought with it a brand new day.**

 **So, like, I totally meant for the delay. For... drama reasons.**

 ***looks awkward***

 **... okay, I didn't die or anything but there was an accident a while back and I hurt my arms pretty bad then by the time I recovered, school was back and, well... I had a bad time, basically. I really am very sorry for the delay!**

* * *

Everything looked so much brighter in the morning—especially right before breakfast time, when the sun was just beginning to make its ascent, new sunshine streaming in from the open windows and brightening the inn and all its inhabitants. At this time of day, you could almost _smell_ the breakfast in the air. After all the events that had led up to the reunion-turned-drinking-party the night before, the sight of the new, _calm_ day filled Hawk with more than a little contentment as he awoke from his place at the Boar Hat's tavern area. Rising, he stretched once, just to hear that satisfying _'crack!',_ before banging open the largest window, and announcing a hearty greeting for all of the world to hear, loudly enough to startle birds into flight:

"Good morning!"

And, immediately, his morning greeting is met with the groans, grumbles, and disgruntled mutters of the many victims of the drinking games of the night before, once proud, noble warriors and now just bodies strewn amidst the tavern area of the Boar Hat, from their Ban snoring as he dangled from his ankle from one of the hanging lamps, to Hendrickson grumbling and clutching at his head even as he dozed beneath the bar, to even Arthur splayed out over the bar itself, Cath gnawing at his air, the king of Camelot determinedly cuddling with a half-drained bottle of what smelled like Gloucester wine. _These_ were the people those weird time-traveling doppelgangers (and that _still_ boggled Hawk, even now) were trusting to save their future. _These_ people.

It was so tragic that Hawk couldn't help but sigh. "Geez, guys! It's _morning!"_ he squeals, though that only serves to make most groan and cover their ears. "Up and at it! We've all got a busy day ahead of us so let's get started!"

The only response he gets is from their Ban, whose ankle had merely loosened from where it had been hooked over a lamp, leading to him falling flat on his face, right into a puddle of sick (King's, if Hawk was remembering correctly). Despite this, he was still quite clearly far from awake.

"E _laine,"_ Ban was murmuring, muffled but still obviously giggly. "So rough~"

From the bottom of his heart, Hawk sighs once more, absolutely _disgusted._ "Geez!" He trots over to the fallen Sin and starts pulling him by the scruff of his shirt to somewhere at least a little more sanitary. "As usual, I'm the only useful one around here," he declares into Ban's shirt collar, though there's a hint of a smile on his face even as he says that. "Honestly!"

He drags him to a spot below an open window and leaves him there in the sunlight, sunbeams leaving odd shadows on Ban's sharp, sick-streaked face. He doesn't stir. "Geez," Hawk mutters. He's smiling. "You guys are dumb."

He can't help the affection from his tone. While, normally, having over a dozen dumb drunks stinking up the place would've been _absolutely infuriating_ at the least, but right now, Hawk found that he didn't mind quite as much as he probably should've. Even when they were like this, he was happy to see them. It meant they were alive. It meant they were _there._ For all that he didn't like having the Boar Hat reeking of sick, ale, and Meliodas' cooking, it also meant they'd had cause to celebrate the night before, and that all of the bodies lying around the bar were just people sleeping off the hangovers and not pin-cushioned corpses. For that reason, just this once, he was happy they were all there, even if they were like this.

Not that he'd ever say it, of course.

"We have a long day ahead!" he declares. "Up and at it! C'mon, Gilthunder!" he says, trotting over to the pink-haired knight, once an enemy feared and respected during their journey to find the Sins, now slumped facedown as he drooled onto what had been a tin of fish pie. "You're going to be heading the expedition later, remember?! You, and Howzer, and Gilfrost!"

"A-and me, too, S-Shir Piggy," a faint, still relatively unfamiliar voice slurred from the corner, coming from the creatively named silver-clad knight as he slowly pulled himself chin first onto a chair. "Don't forget 'bout me sho shoon..."

"Yeah! And that new Silver guy, too!" He nudges Gilthunder with his snout. "Up and at it!"

"Mrblgrfl," was Gilthunder's eloquent reply. "Mrbrl."

At this, Hawk finally just sighs, sniffs, then trots past him to reach where Hendrickson was dozing.

"Up and at it, Hendy! You're going to be with Elizabeth, remember, so get up and get moving!"

In response, Hendrickson turned over onto his back and snored. Loudly, almost proudly, and _definitely_ stinkily.

A veteran of dealing with hungover customers, Hawk recoils to the opposite end of the room, ears clasped over his snout. "Oh, come _on,"_ he squeals. "Rude!"

When even that doesn't get a reply, he heaves another sigh, the weight of the world (and all the dumbasses he called allies inside it) heavy on his back. Well, since Merlin said she was going to teleport him and Elizabeth directly to Istar, he supposed Hendrickson sleeping in wasn't _too_ big a deal. And, anyway, since Elizabeth'd had to help heal their Meliodas' injuries after that future Ban had brought him up, it wasn't like she wasn't getting any practice with her druid powers. Even if that practice involved Meliodas getting a lot more _handsy_ than a patient getting a healing session had any right to be, to his eternal frustration.

Then again... Elizabeth might actually _like_ —

He gags as he forcibly puts the thought away from his mind. Nopenope _nope,_ he was _not_ going to think about that, he wasn't even going to _consider_ it, the fact that Elizabeth might—

Might...

... Could it _really_ be true?

Could she really _like_ it when—

Could Elizabeth actually be...

 _Was she actually just as big a pervert as he was?!_

Yeah, no, he was _not_ going to think about that.

 _Anything_ was better than thinking about _that._

"Damn, that was some party last night..."

He perks up at the voice, the blessedly _sober-_ sounding voice. "Ban!" he exclaims. "You're up!"

The Ban from the future had just sauntered down the steps, still dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing the night before, save for the lack of apron, looking tired but alert and _mercifully sober_.

Come to think of it, for all that he talked about having a good time and kept prodding at people to take more drinks... did he drink at all last night? He'd left the party pretty early, didn't he and—

"Mooornin', Master~" he greets him, as the Ban he knew always did. Though he seemed a bit distracted as he went over to the kitchen, sidestepping all the people still lying unconscious without bothering to comment. "Guess I went kinda overboard last night," he mutters, surveying the pantry critically. "Not much left for breakfast. And we don't exactly have any leftovers left, eh, Master?" The last words were aimed at him, an easy smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth. "Still, got any requests?"

He can't help his delighted squeal. "You're making breakfast?!"

He might've thought the whole 'reunion drinking party' idea of those time travelers was absolutely, positively frivolous—because of _course_ it was, how could they be thinking of _drinking_ when everything was as unbelievable as it was! For all they know, some people might've just forgotten everything in the morning and they'd have to explain everything again, just because they couldn't resist the urge to party now that they had the chance

But!

... the food really had been absolutely delicious. Even better than their Ban's. He hadn't even known that was possible but it was. And it was _delicious._

"Who else?" Ban flashes him a smirk, baring his fangs, as he grabbed— _Snatched_ —his apron with one hand and started prepping pots and pans with the other. Ban might be a bandit and one of the best fighters in all of Britannia as a member of the Seven Deadly Sins (excluding himself and his Mama of course!) but as far as Hawk was concerned, the _kitchen_ was the battlefield where he really shined. "Don't see anyone else rushing to make it. Nice shades, by the way," he adds off-handedly. "Merlin's, right? The Captain told me he'd had her give you a little something."

He can't help but preen. "Cool, right?" he asks, adjusting them so that they caught the light. It was a pair of _sweet_ new goggles, with dark lenses set in round, bronze frames, one fitted with his old Balor's Power Eye and a whole bunch of other neat new features. Apparently, with him wearing them and keeping watch, the Demon clan would never be able to spy on them again. Which was _awesome_ —though since even just the Power Eye feature was busted, he wasn't super keen on trying out all of the other features just yet, at least not until he's gotten her to check on them. He's not too sure _how_ it broke but it did, somehow. Otherwise, that second Ban would be—

Nah, it _had_ to be broken. It just had to be! That weird second Meliodas having low power levels was one thing but that weird second _Ban_ having a power level like _that_ was just...

Yeah, it had to be broken, he was sure of it! There was just no way _anyone_ could get numbers anywhere _near_ that ridiculous. Honestly, he doubted even his _Mama_ could get power levels that ridiculously high. He's pretty confident in his own power levels (as he should) but even he isn't naive enough to believe his could be a number anywhere near—

—A-anyway, the goggles looked really cool and since he was already unbeatable without them, he's sure that he'll be _super_ -unbeatable with them, once Merlin got the bugs worked out.

"They look great," that Ban drawls, though his eyes were fixed on the ingredients he'd grabbed. He'd forgotten to give him any requests, come to think of it, but Ban had already started preparing to cook—that was fine, though, if it was Ban, he could make anything taste good. His hands moved deftly as he worked, dicing onions, tomatoes, and garlic without a hint of hesitation. " _M-M-M-M-Miiiild~"_ he was singing as he readied to cook. " _Gooooood night, my precious little brother~"_

Suddenly, his eyes were burning. He squints before adjusting the goggles over his eyes. "Yeah, they're pretty cool. By the way, I think that's way too many onions! They're making me cry! And what's with that song, it's _seriously_ lame!"

Ban stops singing, stops chopping ingredients, and he almost wants to say he didn't mean for him to actually _stop_. "Y'think so, huh?" For a moment, there's a sort of tension in his shoulders but then—"That just means you need to listen to it some more! Really let it _sink_ into your head, eh?"

He groans " _Stop!"_ but it's too late, Ban was now bellowing the song at the top of his lungs, to the grumbling of their many, still-hungover friends still laying around the bar as they finally started to rise from their stupors, the (terrible) singer's own counterpart included, that stupid, lame song ringing in their ears. It was enough to make a guy cry and he was already crying enough from the onions as it is (stupid goggles didn't even stop onion juice, he was _definitely_ getting them looked at). "C'mon, stop that!" he protests. " _Ban!"_

Of course, Ban ignores him.

Still, singing aside, he was absolutely sure of one thing.

Today was going to be a _great_ day!

* * *

"Okay so, drinking is... a bad idea. Have _to—urp!—remember_ that..."

Once again, the wall somehow manages to lurch away from her desperate, grasping hands as the floor seemed to rise up behind her as she tried to take a step forward. She wasn't feeling well. The world was spinning, her head was pounding, and her stomach was—oh, to put it mildly, _protesting,_ doing flips every time she tried to do so much as _breathe._ All she wants to do is lie down, close her eyes, and possibly find a way to bury herself somewhere where neither light nor sound could possibly reach—but even though the floor looked really, very, _incredibly_ comfortable right now, she forces herself to stay on her feet and keep looking. The restrooms, where were the restrooms again? And... where was she?

Oh, right, she was at the in the Boar Hat's third floor, amnesia aside, she does remember that much and she was here because—

Because...

"Urp— _!_ "

The air was filled with the scent of sick once more.

To put it mildly, Diane was not having a good day.

(She was not alone in this)

She feels sick, thirsty, dizzy, and everything _hurts._ The sun, the noise, the air _—everything._ Even though she, as the Sins' one (and only) giant, could manipulate the earth as easily as anything, the ground still kept swaying and lurching beneath her feet no matter what she did—and she tried a _lot_ in trying to get it to stop. A _lot._

... In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to try and use her powers while inside an inn on top of a giant pig, that was on top of a stone castle, that was in the middle of a bustling kingdom filled with buildings made primarily out of stone _._ She didn't _mean_ to crater all of those towers but...

Well, Merlin fixed the damage when she came back after she'd teleported Gilthunder's group off on their tasks, so no harm done, right?

 _Right?!_

Her amnesia really is troublesome...

But, somehow... hangover was even worse.

She needed help.

She needed—

"King...?" she calls out, as loud as she could manage through her dry mouth and the way her ears ring even at the sound of her own voice. "Where are you?"

She stumbles trying to get up onto the stairs but manages to cling to the railing before she could fall to the floor, forehead instead smacking hard against the wall. "Kiiing?" she calls out once more, words coming out muffled and miserable as she spoke into the wall. The blessedly- _cool_ wall that had just damnably _bruised_ her already aching head. "Where are you?"

"... not so loud..."

The words are a whisper but it's enough to make her ears ring—not that that's an achievement. She creakily manages to turn her head in the direction of the voice, that wonderfully _familiar_ voice, one she'd come to hear quite a bit over the course of everyone trying to help her with her memories... yesterday? The night before that? The _day_ before that? How long has it been again?

"King?" she finds herself calling out to ask. "Is... is that you...? I could... _ugh..._ really use some help..."

"S-sorry, Diane, it's only me... I'm sorry to disappoint."

She stops. The room, however, does not. "Oh... Escanor," she says, blinking. "I didn't ... see you..."

Escanor was slumped against the far side of the room, a great big bottle cradled against his chest, and, at her words, he slid further down onto the floor, dead-eyed. "It's alright, Diane," he says faintly, eyes unfocused. "That's understandable. Why in the world would anyone notice someone as insignificant as myself... "

"... are... you okay?"

He only looks back at her, tears in his eyes. "Did you hear what she _said?!"_ he wails. "Oh, _Merlin._ That I ever thought I could have a chance with someone as incredible as you... "

She flinches, both at the words and how they rang in her skull. "I... didn't hear what she said..." she just barely manages. "Wh-what did she tell you?"

"She told me—" he sniffles, loud and hard, into his already wine-soaked cuff. "That she was going with Arthur to personally see Camelot, once she was done teleporting Lady Elizabeth and the others to where they need to be—and would like to know _why?!_ " He doesn't wait for a response, his next words coming out as a distressed whisper. "Because he means the world to her..."

Without another word, he lifts the bottle—whiskey, by the smell of it—to his lips and chugs like a starving baby, all while tears continued to streak down his cheeks.

"Oh, _Escanor..."_ She isn't sure what to say and to hear that Merlin, of all people, had said such a thing... as happy as she was that Merlin had found someone, looking at Escanor, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic. "... Y-you shouldn't drink so much..."

She said it as kindly as she could manage but it only makes him sob and doesn't make him stop. "I _know,"_ he wails. "I'm _pathetic._ But I _need_ it, or else I..."

"But it won't help you. Not really..." It takes everything she has given the way the floor was swaying beneath her feet but she manages to shuffle her way to him all the way over on the other side of the room, leaning to the wall for support, managing to sit down next to him and carefully, almost daintily, prying the bottle from his hands. He doesn't struggle. Despite its size, the bottle feels terribly light. She tries to hope that it was one of the bottles they'd all shared as a group but, given Escanor's state, she can't quite manage to make herself believe it. "D-do you want to talk about it?"

"N-no. I _kn-know_ L-Lady Merlin deserves to be happy but I just... I'm just stupid and selfish and useless..." Then he _sighs,_ and it is heartfelt, lovelorn, and so very weary that despite having barely interacted with him these past few days, despite her only other memories of him being what Gowther had projected into her skull via his Broadcast during that long day before, Diane wants to go on over, give him the biggest hug, and tell him he was being silly, of _course_ Merlin didn't think of him as useless or stupid or whatever other awful words he was using to describe himself—

—But he was already talking again before she could gather up the words to say.

"You have to understand, too, you were in love with the Captain," he was saying, babbling, really, words coming out in a slurred rush. "B-back then and even now, I'm sure, but he's got Lady Elizabeth and it's just—I'm happy for him b-but... y-you know how I feel, don't you?"

"I-I don't know if I can call it ' _love',"_ she manages, though she can only barely hear herself speak through the landslide of words coming from his mouth. "I can't even—I don't even remember anymore, and seeing how much Elizabeth feels about him, I don't... _think_ I feel the same as I used to and, I um..."

"Oh, of course," Escanor says faintly. "Your memories, I forgot, I'm so sorry, Diane, I'm just so stupid and useless and worthless and why did I ever think that someone like Lady Merlin would ever consider someone like me for—"

"D-don't say that!" Diane tries, through the ringing in her own skull, though Escanor, now huddled in a fetal position and obviously lost in a world of his own making, couldn't seem to hear her. "It's not true at all! In fact, I think you're wonderful! I... I know it must be hard but... I think that... no, I _know_ that..." she hesitates. "As long as... as long as the person I love is happy, I'd be happy, too, e-even if it's not... with me. I... If Merlin really does think that way about Arthur then..."

His eyes well up with tears once more. "You're so selfless...! Y-you're right, of course. And Merlin... Lady Merlin deserves the love of a king... and if he makes her happy then I should just—should just—!"

When he bawls, this time, it's into her arms, with her doing her best to comfort him through her own aches and pains, murmuring steadily, soothingly, into his ear as he sobbed. And while he does... she can't help but think...

It was really weird, actually. Going by all of the memories Gowther's shown her, she used to have the hugest crush on Meliodas... but, somehow, she really doesn't feel that way about him now. He was very dear to her, both for the memories she's had of him before and after Gowther and Elizabeth's help but, romantically, she just didn't...

She just _didn't._

Maybe it was for the better. Not once has she suspected that he might actually return her feelings and it was absolutely _obvious_ to the her of today that Elizabeth, her best friend, was in love with him and that he _absolutely_ reciprocated with all of his hearts (all seven of them) but at the same time...

It made her uneasy. Were her feelings really so shallow that a little memory loss could erase it all? Every single trace?

And...

Why was it that she felt so... _strongly_ about King these days if she'd truly been in love with the Captain?

Then, suddenly, while Escanor was still sobbing in her arms

 _"Blackout Arrow."_

—and he fell unconscious, face-first, onto the floor, slumping against the wall before she could so much as say a word.

Over them both, Gowther was standing, fingers still smoking from the attack.

"Gowther?! What the—why did you _do_ that?!" she shrieks, gaping openly at him as he lowered his extended fingers, his Sacred Treasure, Harlot, dematerializing as he did.

"It will be noon soon," Gowther says simply. Without any seeming remorse, he bent to pick up Escanor, hoisting him easily onto his back so that Escanor's head was lolling on his shoulder. Despite the size difference, Gowther barely seemed to notice the weight. "This is standard procedure for us as the Sins. It would be dangerous if Escanor were to rampage. Much less after drinking so much. We cannot afford to wait until the last minute without Merlin's _Power Amplify._ "

"S-still..." Her head was still spinning. "I wanted to talk to him some more..."

"I believe you will have the opportunity," Gowther informs her, head tilting to one side. "The Captains have called for a meeting later this evening. Perhaps you can continue your conversation then, once the Captains finish explaining everything."

Her head spun even _more._ "What...?"

He tilts his head to the other side this time. "According to the future Ban, the explanation yesterday was merely the 'tip of the iceberg'. We Sins will be getting the full explanation. It's quite unusual, really."

There was even _more...?_

"We have a very long evening ahead of us," Gowther says. He sounded neither pleased nor displeased about it. Escanor was sound asleep in his arms, seeming without a care in the world now that he was unconscious. "It will be fascinating, I'm sure."

Her head was still spinning, she still felt sick, and she _still_ doesn't really understand yesterday's explanation, much less the look in Gowther's eyes as he said those enigmatic last words. Thinking about it, she didn't even understand her _own_ feelings.

... This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

 _Today was an absolutely awful day!_

The sun was bright, _too_ bright, even with their newest companion, Silver, using healing magic to help with the remnant hangovers, the Valley of Fossils was a sweltering hell-hole, and, of course, the giant, gods-damned _dragon._

Howzer curses as he just barely manages to sidestep the lash of its enormous, spiked tail, hastily gathering magic into the tip of his javelin just as Gilthunder did the same with his sword from far behind it, before letting it explode with a cry:

 _"Rising Tornado!"_

 _"Purge of the Thunder Emperor!"_

Their magic surges forward, colliding, and clashing to form their combined technique _Dragon Castle,_ a black storm of a tornado large enough to engulf the whole of the dragon and then some, Gilthunder's lightning crackling as it scorched at the beast entrapped in their 'Castle' even as his winds tried to tear the damned dragon apart—

—but all it takes is a beat of its wings and an all-too- _powerful_ smack of its tail and their storm disperses into nothing, the dragon emerging into the skies, scales blackened but seemingly undamaged, raising its head to _roar_ into the skies, the sound enough to send him staggering even before taking into account how the dragon then looked down at them, the gathered knights (and one mage), before honing on him, great red eyes filled with hate.

... This was _not_ a good day for them.

 _"Freeze Coffin!"_

He doesn't see Gilfrost as he's casting the spell but he definitely sees its effects, feels the sudden rush of cold as the spell worked to engulf the dragon all at once—

Another swing of its tail smashes that icy prison before it could fully form but, by then, their newest addition as already high in the air, sword held poised for an overhead strike.

 _"Purge of the Thunder God!"_

A veritable _pillar_ of lightning struck it right between its wings, Silver standing over where his sword _finally_ pierced through the dragon's scales, and the dragon _falls, grounded. F_ or the first time, when the dragon screams, it's with a trace of agony in its voice as it thrashes about, wings sparking with lightning that seemed to be keeping them from functioning properly—

—But more than anything, it's the absolute _rage_ in its eyes that strikes Howzer as he's propelling himself forward to try and capitalize on the moment of weakness, wind gathered around the tip of his javelin for a _Breakthrough._ Before his strike could land, before the technique had even been fully realized, the dragon outright _grabs_ him in a fit of rage and tries to _crush_ him, claws threatening to pierce through his armor from the sheer force of its grip.

"Aargh— _!_ "

 _"Sword of the Thunder God!"_

The sheer force of the attack is enough to outright _rip_ through the dragon's arm, lightning-charged sword cleaving through it, bones and all, all while the force of the attacker's charge brought him a good distance away from the rest of the dragon, Howzer in the dismembered hand in tow. Still engulfed in a coat of crackling lightning, Silver cut quite an ominous figure but when he lay his hands on Howzer, it's with surprising gentleness and no pain. In fact, quite the opposite.

 _"Invigorate."_

Comforting magic floods through his system, not erasing every ache but making them more manageable, making him feel... well, _invigorated_ as the magic slowly worked through his veins, enough that he breaks free from the clawed hand's grip purely through his own strength. He still has no idea who Silver is or why that Meliodas insisted they take him with them but, needless to say, Howzer was pretty _damn_ grateful that he was there for them.

"Thanks, man," he pants, wincing as he felt at the dents now marring both his armor and his weapon. He'd have to have them repaired later. "You really saved me, back there!"

Silver doesn't reply with much more than a nod before he's there, ready to strike at the dragon once more, having moved with all the speed of a lightning flash as he brought his sword up for a strike with all the crushing power of his charge. _"Sword of the Thunder God!"_

But, this time, having grown wary of him in particular, the dragon rears back in time to avoid the attack, unleashing a retaliatory burst of flames in the moment the silver knight's charge slowed as he skidded to a halt _—_

—only for Gilthunder to intercept the attack, his _Heavy Armor of the Thunder Emperor_ crackling around him and the shield he'd donned for their mission. The fiery attack disperses upon contact with the lightning surrounding him and, with a roar, Gilthunder rushes to _bash_ the dragon right on the snout, making it shriek in protest, before he wedges his crackling shield between its jaws, forcing them open before he then discharged the electricity forming his armor straight into its gaping maw. _"Embrace of the Thunder God!"_

And, for the first time since the fight began, the dragon outright _screams,_ through the shield in its mouth, its agony all-too-apparent in its earsplitting roar as Gilthunder's lightning fried it from the inside, enough that for a few moments, he could see its insides burning brightly through the thickness of its scales, its bones set alight by the brilliance of it. Then, pained and enraged, it _crunches_ through the shield wedged between its jaws before it lunged, to devour or to ram, Howzer didn't know, but Gilthunder leaps back before it could so, moving with the _Flash Movement of the Thunder Emperor,_ just as Silver rushes forward, moving with the _Flash Movement of the Thunder God,_ sword readied for another strike even while, high above Gilfrost began to bombard the dragon with elemental spells, staff flashing as he unleashed bolt after bolt of fire, ice, and lightning—

—all to no avail, as the dragon, seeming more irritated than anything at his spellwork, moved once more for Gilthunder with preternatural speed, ducking Silver's attack at the last moment before batting him aside with an almost contemptuous swing of his tail as it went for a killing blow, jaws opening wide as a ball of white flames formed from within its gaping maw—and is fired.

"Stop!" Howzer barks, lunging desperately for the dragon, though the distance was too far for his charge to breach. _"Don't!"_

At near point-blank range, the flames hit before anyone could intervene, not Silver, not Gilfrost, and certainly not himself, before Gilthunder could fully resummon his _Heavy Armor of the Thunder Emperor._ Before their horrified eyes, the fireball _explodes,_ engulfing the Holy Knight in a screaming inferno of white-hot dragon fire—

" _Gil!"_ Gilfrost screams, anguished. "NO!"

—But then, golden energy flickers briefly around Gilthunder like a second skin and the flames disperse, leaving Gilthunder relatively unharmed, to _all_ their shock. It's only then that Howzer belatedly remembers that Meliodas had apparently asked Merlin to give Gilthunder some sort of protective charm. Earlier, he might've complained earlier about the Sins picking favorites but, now, it only fills him with relief as he finally reaches the dragon once more, javelin extended:

 _"Rising Tornado!"_

His magic explodes upwards in a cage of winds, startling both the beast and the knights before it—and, once again, it doesn't do much, the dragon breaking through the whirling winds with another slam of its tail, but it buys Silver the time to charge forward with his sword, his body crackling with electricity _,_ just as Gilfrost raised his staff in support.

 _"Purge of the Thunder God!"_

" _Power Amplify!"_

Silver's lightning-charged sword _slams_ through the dragon with enough force to crater the ground beneath its feet, even before the veritable _tower_ of lightning that followed the strike, the ground below and around them outright _glassifying_ from the sheer power of Silver's lightning.

Here, the dragon _screams,_ agonized, desperate, and finally, _finally,_ close to death, staggering backward away from them, armor-like scales disintegrating, the flesh beneath it blackened with burns, but eyes still filled with rage and hate as—

—as Jericho reappeared out onto the battlefield, a bulging sack on her back at a run as she dashed to their campsite where they'd set up a miniature safe zone with the protective charms Merlin had given them for the trip, her sword sheathed and her expression panicked as she spots both them, exhausted, and the dragon, enraged.

The dragon leaps for her, whether for the burden she bore or out of sheer desperation, he isn't sure, but he's already in motion even before it had begun to move, even through the injuries Silver's slow-acting _Invigorate_ had yet to fully heal, moving with the wind as he aims the point of his javelin towards its blind spot, gathers all the magic he has left, and _screams:_

 _"Breakthrough!"_

The blast strikes straight through its unprotected underbelly, the condensed wind magic exploding out through its back and shearing through its spine in a burst of gore before it can even scream and finally, _finally,_ the dragon falls.

Dead.

And, exhausted, Howzer follows after, falling onto his knees and leaning on his javelin for support as he tried to catch his breath, satisfaction from the victory making him smile even through the aches that were now all-too-apparent in the absence of adrenaline from the fight, in the aftermath of Silver's healing magic wearing off. They did it. They'd won.

"... I got the apples," Jericho manages to pant belatedly, stumbling as she finally reached their enchanted tent, the sack falling from her back and spilling part of its contents all over their campsite as it did. "Th-three bushels should be enough, right?!"

"It should suffice. I'm sure that even _she_ shouldn't be able to find anything to complain about," Gilfrost answers... frostily, as it turns out he always did when discussing anything to do with Merlin. For whatever reason, Gilfrost absolutely _despised_ her, though Merlin, for her part, never treated him with anything less than her usual wry amusement. "... We did well."

Still exhausted, Howzer falls flat on his back and manages a cheer from his place on the ground next to the dragon's carcass. "We got the apples," he says tiredly, half-heartedly. "Yaaay."

They got the apples.

Yep.

Apples.

Rare amberapples only found deep in the ravines of the Valley of Fossils but still, undoubtedly just _apples_. _Fruits._ Three Holy Knights of Liones, an incredibly skilled mage, and an enigmatic but undoubtedly powerful druid knight and the first task Merlin had assigned them was picking _apples._

When he'd first read that, he thought that collecting all the ingredients was going to be easy. It _should've_ been easy, really, if it weren't for the fact that the Valley of Fossils was, oh, currently _infested_ with dragons. Not just any dragons either, friggin' _hourglass_ dragons. Some of the most ancient, magical beasts Britannia had to offer. And what did Merlin have to say for herself when she revealed that little tidbit in the _micro_ seconds before she'd teleported herself back?

"It's quite convenient, really," she had said, smiling was was, in hindsight, an extraordinarily _suspicious_ smile. "Their heartscales will be a vital component in the spell. I trust you all should be able to handle yourselves?"

The fool he was, he'd said yes immediately. Before they'd even fully read through the list, he'd agreed. Even including the hourglass dragon heartscales, they'd barely even scratched the surface. The list went on for a good few pages.

A list that started... with picking apples protected by obscenely powerful dragons normally only hunted down by full-fledged _armies_ of knights, going by the history Gilthunder had rattled off before the actual fight.

Followed shortly by the grisly act of butchering an hourglass dragon for its heartscales.

He hasn't read it through and through but, whatever else their quest had in store, he is _not_ looking forward to finding out just how Merlin expected them to get the "nose hairs of a saturn titan".

Gilthunder looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Stop that," he scolds, though, to Howzer's ear, even he sounded just a bit less zealous than he usually did. "This is an important mission. The fate of Liones depends on us so take this seriously!"

 _"Their_ Liones," Howzer mutters though without any real heat as he plucks himself off the ground, picking up his javelin as he did. "I know, I know! Sheesh! You don't need to have such a stick up your ass, you know!"

He bristles. "Howzer..."

It is then that Silver coughs, making them turn to him, the sound somewhat muffled by his helmet. It's only then that Howzer realizes he's never actually seen their companion without his helmet before. "Any Liones is Liones," he says sternly. "As a Holy Knight, you are sworn to defend it! The king has personally asked us to do well in this task." Then, after a pause. "I hope you can do your duty without complaint, Howzer."

He doesn't mean to but he looks away, shame-faced and feeling very small under the weight of Silver's gaze, ears burning. "Uh... yeah, of course," he manages. "Not a problem! I was just—I'm not complaining, not at all!"

Silver only looked amused. "I thought so," he says, sounding almost fond, even wistful. "No one should ever waste time complaining while on the job, Howzer. You're a grown man now, a Holy Knight... not a child."

"Exactly!" Gilthunder, in turn, looked mollified. _"Thank_ you," he says, briefly aiming a pointed sideways glance in Howzer's direction before turning to face Silver, expression admiring, grateful. "That reminds me, you've been an incredible help so far. You have my thanks, Sir Silver."

And, suddenly, to Howzer's bewilderment, Silver seemed almost... _bashful_. "Ahahah... don't mention it," he deflects, looking down. What skin could be seen through the slits in his helmet was bright red and—

 _'Ah.'_ Howzer was suddenly very irritated. _'So_ that's _why he's tagging along. Jeez, first Vivan and now this guy_ — _he gets all the luck!'_

Then, Silver coughs once more. "Actually... Gilthunder, if we could have a moment... there's something I have to tell y—"

Suddenly, the ground quakes beneath their feet, strong enough to send the spilled fruit scattering all over the ground, enough to send Jericho stumbling flat onto her back from where she'd been approaching the dead dragon to harvest its heartscales, enough that he, Gilthunder, and Silver only managed to stay on their feet by virtue of the weapons they'd used as supports.

"Over there!" Gilfrost shouts from high above, readying his staff in hand once more. "From that cave...!"

Great beasts were emerging from the cave where Jericho had emerged with their spoils, eyes gleaming with hatred enough to prompt the knights to instinctively take battle-stances, even Jericho from her position on the ground.

They were enormous beasts enough to rival the carcass cooling by their side, with gigantic reptilian heads with crests of curving horns, armor-like scales gleaming silver in the sunlight. Sparks of white-hot flame flickered around their snouts as they spotted the burnt remains by their side. They were, undoubtedly, the brethren of the beast they'd slain. They were hourglass dragons.

An entire herd of them, in fact.

...

This was not a good day for them.

* * *

The Boar Hat was quiet in the absence of the knights but that brought Meliodas no joy. If anything, it only drew more attention to his... well, dissatisfaction.

The thought makes him sigh. As does the sight of her back turned away from him.

"Sheesh, Cap'n, any louder and you're bound to catch flies," Ban, _his_ Ban, drawls, his bottle of Aberdeen dangling from his knuckles. "C'mon, Captain, lighten up. Everything's going as planned, right?"

"Pretty much! Gowther says he can probably manage." He tries to pull a smile and but instead has to hide his grimace with a sip of Bernia. Inexorably, his eyes are drawn to the, well, _bothersome_ sight and, without meaning to, he sighs once more.

Now, Ban was looking at him, clear concern in his eyes. "Something the matter?"

He looks up at him once then, after a moment's thought, relents.

"I'm just not used to it," he admits, sighing great and gusty. "Her looking at someone _else_ like that."

She was about to leave, too, as soon as Hendrickson finished packing for the trip. Merlin was going to teleport them halfway across Britannia to Istar and he wasn't going to see her for... well, maybe a day or two, but still. He was already away from _his_ Elizabeth, that _this_ Elizabeth was going away, too...

And she never even really looked at him, not when...

... getting jealous of yourself was stupid. (Though, luckily for him, it was already well-known that he could be a real idiot.)

Ban follows his gaze to see what would've been his room as the Boar Hat's owner through its open door and, inside, the Princess with the Cap'n, the former determinedly fussing over the latter even through his protests, fixing his pillows, proffering drinks, or even offering to help change his bandages. At a glance, he could tell the best thing for him to do now would be to just get some sleep but the Princess looked like she didn't want to leave him her sight. He couldn't blame her, of course. And, by the looks of things, the Cap'n wasn't exactly complaining.

Part of him wants to offer some form of teasing rebuttal but instead, he says: "Yeah, I getcha there," as he turned his gaze to the room where Elaine was staying with him. Not _him_ him, the _other_ him. And, fucking _hell,_ what have their lives become that that shit was actually understandable?

He had _his_ Elaine, he had to remember that. The Elaine here was not _his_ Elaine, but his.

But it was _hard._

"I know she's not _my_ Elizabeth," he says, and there was a world of complicated feelings in his voice, joy, sorrow, wistfulness, and, above all, _love._ "She's... I'm not the one she's in love with. But..." and, here, he hesitates."She's Elizabeth," he says at last. "How could I not fall for her?"

"I know, Captain," he says, and there's a world's worth of weight behind the words, a depth of painful understanding. "But there's nothing we can do about it until we get home. You'd kill you. Or _you'd_ kill you. One of you'll kill you, anyway. I know I would try. Heh, I almost have."

It doesn't change anything, not really. But somehow...

It makes him feel the tiniest bit better. "I know you're right," he says, though he has to down more Bernia before he can say it. "...You're a great friend, you know that right?"

Ban blinks at him, lowering his own drink. "What brought this on? You're being awful sappy, Captain." Despite this, his expression was more playful than confused, and his eyes were, as always, fond. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't help it!" he says. "I'm nothing _but_ emotions, remember! I'm nothing but sap!"

"Not like _this!_ Are you drunk already?" Then, with an exaggeratedly dramatic gasp. "Holy shit, am I actually winning our drinking contest?!"

"Nishishi! You sure are _funny,_ Ban—"

"S-sir Meliodas?"

Elizabeth was behind him. He hadn't noticed—he actually _hadn't noticed_ —but she'd gone over to him as he'd been talking to Ban, who smirked wryly at him once before pointedly turning away.

"Elizabeth!" He hastily lowers his drink. "What's wrong? I thought you were just about to leave..."

"I was, Sir Hendrickson's already packed but..." she shifts uncomfortably. "Then I thought of you and... I asked Merlin for a few minutes. There's just... something I want to say to you."

As an aside, Ban then very pointedly left the room, leaving them alone together. Him and Elizabeth. Not his Elizabeth but still _Elizabeth._ Who was looking at him right now as if he were _her_ Meliodas (which he was, he was always going to be hers), eyes bright, cheeks flushed, lips just slightly parted as she leaned in close and—

... In theory, as a soul made manifest, he has no physical body and, therefore, no hearts. Still, he swears he almost felt them stop as her breath misted over his face, then fall as she instead drew close to the side of his head, one warm hand wrapping around the one not holding a bottle and giving it a squeeze.

"You're Sir Meliodas to me, too," she tells him, bright-eyed. "I... "

His breath catches in his throat. "Elizabeth..."

She seems to steel herself. "I feel the same for you as I do him," she says gently. "And... I'm sure the me in your world would feel the same, if she were in your shoes. And, just so you know...!"

Her face is almost completely red as she breathes her next few words right into the shell of his ear, words the softest, quietest whisper.

"J-just like I told him, I... love it when you're... _touching_ me... s-so, if you want... you can touch me, too."

Her face was beet-red—no, even _redder._ "J-just..." she swallows. Somehow, the sound makes him swallow, too. Her voice drops down to a barely audible whisper and when he nears to hear what she says next, the faint brush of her lips against the shell of his ear is enough to nearly make him shiver. "O-only when we're alone, o-okay?"

Her breath mists over his skin, warm and familiar, and he can feel his hearts hammering in his chest. It's hard to breathe. Why? _Why?!_ They're only _talking,_ he's not—he isn't some inexperienced _kid,_ he's older than the very kingdom they were in, and, even if he were, he wasn't inexperienced with women—especially not with _Elizabeth,_ of all people. And, technically speaking, he doesn't even really have a physical _body,_ much less any hearts and how could she set them beating like that if he didn't even really have—

"B-but... I do mean it," she says, turning to face him though still unable to look him in the eye. "I meant what I said. Back then and now."

Then she stops as her face turned an even deeper shade of red as he stares at her, stunned, speechless, and _awed._

"U-Um! I-I have to go!" she squeaks. "I-I'll see you later, Sir Meliodas—Sir Ban!" she adds, last-minute, with a bow in his direction as he re-entered the bar. "G-Goodbye!"

And she left him in the dust, leaving him looking after her, _moon-eyed._

"Damn, Princess. Who knew she had it in her?" In contrast, Ban was smirking. "Hey, Captain," he drawls. "You're gonna catch flies."

He doesn't even hear and if he didn't, he wouldn't have even _cared._

 _This was the best day ever!_

* * *

The moon shone brightly that evening, casting Camelot aglow in moonlight. It was at night, of course, that demons were at their peak, and so it was at this time that those of the Demon Clan were at their most productive, minor demons heading everywhere this way and that under the instructions of the Ten Commandments.

All around the castle grounds were eggs. Great, gigantic eggs, littered about the grounds as far as the eye could see. Every so often, one would burst open as another of Grayroad's children were born, a fresh gray demon, another addition to their forces. No longer were there any humans on the grounds. Grayroad had seen to taking care of the recycling and, now, the only lifeforms around were the forces of the demon clan and the many who served them.

"Still, we must have more," she rasps, her voices harsh. "To utterly overwhelm, to raze everything in our paths."

"Eh, what do you _think_ I'm doing right now?" was Gloxinia's lazy reply. Another flick of his wrist and yet more of the once primly cut topiaries of the castle grounds burst into wild, violent life, becoming yet another gnarled, monster of a foot soldier. A _Cursed Vine Tree,_ to be precise. "See~," he says, flipping once backward through the air to settle beside his fellow Commandment with an easy smile. "They won't know what hit them."

Grayroad's empty eyes somehow looked doubtful as she turned her gaze to Drole.

He meets her gaze before closing his eye, acquiescing with a single nod. "As it stands, none of the humans should be able to withstand even the least of our forces."

Drole and Gloxinia were busy as well. Though the majority of their new forces would come from Grayroad's efforts, he and Gloxinia were tasked with bolstering their forces with all the golems they could make. Though they didn't currently have the time or energy to spare on raising new Albions, for a world as weak as that of mortal-kind, their dolls ought to easily be enough to sweep through anything Estarossa's own work left behind, assuming there were any.

Not even dolls, Gloxinia thinks dryly. Only cheap _puppets._ Gerheade—no one of that worthless, traitorous _bastard's_ kind deserved to see even a _picture_ of her, after what that useless, backstabbing monster had done.

Drole's work was less varied but just as strong. Towering golems of stone and earth, eyes flickering with dark flames, surrounded Camelot as sentries, hulking bodies enough to overshadow the castle itself. Drole's silent sentinels' mere appearance would likely deter any simple, opportunistic human. These would serve to guard their new base in the absence of the Commandments or bolster their armies or whatever else they could choose. With all of the Commandments' recovering rapidly with Peronia's help, they would soon be unstoppable.

No, _more_ than that, they were _prepared_ for anything _he_ might throw at them, however many of him there were. Soon, they'd be _ready_ for him, both of him. Soon, he would finally come to his _permanent_ end.

The thought brought neither him nor Gloxinia any joy but, perhaps, it would bring... closure, soon, once it was through.

And it would be, Drole knew. Soon.

Then all the doors and windows of Castle Camelot slammed open as a _roar_ resounded throughout the Camelot grounds.

It was Zeldris.

" _Where the hell is Estarossa?!"_

* * *

 **I really am sorry for the delay. I hope this makes up for it, even a little.**

 **In case anyone here's also reading my other NNT fanfic, Oft-Sprung Surprise, that'll probably be updated next month along with this.**

 **This'll be updated next month. Can't give a definitive date, given the events, but I'll try.**

 **In any case, look very carefully both ways before crossing streets (not everyone follows red lights!), feedback's an excellent source of motivation, and have a nice day.**


	9. The Preceding Calm

**The good news is, I'm not dead. The bad news is, I've become monstrously busy compared to how I was when I first started this. I'm not going to abandon this but I'm sad to say I don't think I'll be able to resume a regular update schedule for a while.**

 **Still, I hope this can make up for the wait.** **Enjoy, I hope~**

* * *

Many long hours after their arrival in Istar, Elizabeth walked alone past the now-empty clearing to the quarters that had been set aside for her, absolutely _exhausted_.

As it turned out, Merlin's request for the druids wasn't difficult but it was tedious, tiring, and time-consuming work. She hadn't known but true healing magic was an ability that belonged exclusively to the Goddess clan and the druids that revered them, so while Merlin could create empty incantation orbs for Hyper Recovery spells as easily as anything, the ability to actually imbue them with healing power was a task she always left to the druids of Istar and, this time, her. She wasn't going to complain, of course, she was always happy to help but she had to admit, after spending three hours continuously casting her newly-learned _Invigorate_ spell on what looked like an ordinary, unresponding rock, she was just about ready to collapse.

"But it will all be worth it," she reminds herself, smiling. "If I can help Sir Meliodas and the others like this, I'll do it as many times as it takes..."

It's then that she hears an unfamiliar voice.

"... It's odd. I'd known of your condition, of course, but seeing it for myself... it really is something."

High overhead, figure backlit by the full moon, was a diminutive, rather androgynous-looking figure with short blond hair tucked under a pointed green cap. Even knowing it was rude, Elizabeth couldn't help but stare at the stranger and, more importantly, the four, feathered _wings_ extending out from their back. They fluttered softly as the stranger descended, and when the stranger lands, it's without a sound and with careless ease, the stranger not once looking away from her and her alone.

It should've been uncomfortable, she knew, being stared at by some person she's never met but... somehow, this person seemed rather... familiar. In fact, now that she thought of it, hadn't she met this person before, all the way back when she was—

"Oh, hello! I am known as the bard _ess_ , Doremifa Solatido," the stranger says, flying over to eye-level before introducing herself with a jaunty bow and a flair of her poncho, rather startling Elizabeth out of her train of thought. "You may call me Solatido. And you are, of course, the lady Princess Elizabeth, are you not?"

"Yes!" she squeaks automatically, nearly jumping out of her skin. "It's very nice to meet you!" she adds hastily. Then, after some hesitation. "But, um, if you don't mind... have we met before?"

For a moment, just a moment, the bardess' expression turned sad, almost mournful, and Elizabeth almost began to apologize for somehow offending her when the bardess grins and strums a chord, expression playful.

"I _am_ the great bardess Solatido," she declares. "My songs have been heard far and wide, from the slums of Ravens to the highest kings' courts in all of Britannia." She flashes her a wink that was almost... _suggestive,_ to Elizabeth's embarrassment, and plays a quick little ditty. "Perhaps you've heard me perform, Princess! _I've_ played for all manner of royalty, you see~"

"Er—I suppose so!" she says. She couldn't remember having heard her play before but—

"But what are you doing here, my lady Princess?" she asks, lowering her lute. "From what I'd heard, you were safe and sound in your Liones, weren't you? This place is... " she pauses, seems to have to think for a moment. _"Unsafe_ for someone with your condition."

She is only confused. "My... condition?"

Solatido smiles, though it's without mirth. "Your physical condition, Princess," she answers carelessly. "It's so easy to get lost in here; Istar can be _such_ a treacherous place, don't you know! It would be terrible if you were to get hurt!"

"Oh! Um, well... " she shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot under that intense gaze. "I'll be fine, really. Lady Jenna and Lady Zaneli have shown me nothing but kindness. And... besides! I'm not alone. Sir Hendrickson is with me."

Solatido looked unconvinced. "You don't mean that traveling companion of yours, do you?" she asks, looking dubious. "That sickly knight couldn't even protect himself from a simple stomach flu. Are you certain you mean to call _him_ your protector?"

She couldn't help the blush that stained her cheeks. For whatever reason, Hendrickson had gotten nauseous the moment they reached Istar and hadn't recovered despite her best, albeit admittedly inexperienced, efforts. Luckily for him, Jenna had been happy to personally take him aside for treatment but still. She has yet to see neither hide nor hair of him since they'd gotten here...

"H-he's very capable when he's on the job," she defends, instead. "I trust him with my life!"

Solatido's expression remained dubious. "... not that I don't trust your judgment, Princess, but are you _absolutely sure_ about that?"

"Of course!" she says immediately. "Sir Hendrickson is one of the most capable knights in all of Liones!"

"And what an _impressive_ place Liones must be if _that's_ what counts as one of its most capable," she answers dryly. Before Elizabeth could even begin to process her response, too aghast at the sheer _audacity_ of this stranger, saying such an insult to the kingdom right in front of one of its princesses, Solatido had begun to speak once more. "For all that he's gifted with light, his blood _reeks_ with darkness. His mere presence is an insult to this place... as meager as _this_ place is."

Her hands clench into fists and she can't help but raise her voice. "Sir Hendrickson is atoning for his mistakes," she says, her voice calm but uncompromising. "I know he did terrible things while under... under that demon's control, but I know he's a good man. I won't let you keep insulting him, Miss Solatido."

Solatido meets her gaze, at first, before finally breaking away, muttering under her breath. "I will never understand how you can tolerate such filth."

Elizabeth hears. She stills. "Filth...?" she asks, sounding almost calm. "What do you mean by ' _filth',_ Miss Solatido?"

Solatido's eyes were unflinching. "What else?" she says, beginning to pick at her lute. "Those lower beings who are the enemy of the whole world, those worthless parasites that taint the world by their very existence... demons and those stained with their blood."

"How can you say that?!" she bursts out, eyes flashing. "How—how _dare_ you say that!"

"How dare _I?!_ How can _you_ say otherwise?!" was Solatido's equally furious reply, the little bardess springing to the air to meet her gaze on four, splayed wings, making her look more imposing than she otherwise would've been, though Elizabeth doesn't flinch, doesn't back down, doesn't yield even the slightest. Upon seeing this, Solatido has to visibly force herself to calm before she continues. "Lady Princess Elizabeth, you are one of the people I respect most in all the world. Without a doubt, you are brilliant beyond _words..._ but I will _never_ understand how you can stand to keep lowering yourself, choosing to associate with those just _unworthy_ of you—much less with _him_!"

For a while, a very short while, there is silence after the little bardess' outburst, enough that their breathing was the only sound to be heard in the empty clearing, the evening sky their only witness.

"You're... referring to Sir Meliodas, aren't you?" Elizabeth finally asks, her voice soft but her eyes hard. It was not a question, despite whatever tone she might've used. Her expression was steel. "I don't know what you might have heard about him but you're very mistaken."

"Mistaken? Hah!" Solatido scoffs. _"What_ I know is that you've gotten into nothing but trouble since you've met him and yet you _still_ refuse to see reason! What has _he_ ever done for you that you keep feeling the need to defend him like this? He's nothing more than a demon like the rest of them, as bloodthirsty and out of control and even more of a _stain_ on this world than most. Since the day you've met, he's only ever brought you suffering and I just can't understand why is it that you keep on _defending_ him!?"

With each word she said, Elizabeth turned paler and paler, knuckles turning bone-white, her breathing beginning to shake.

Solatido didn't seem to notice as she continued, lost in thought. "Once, I might've... might've begun to think otherwise," she says bitterly. "Back then, because of... but, then, look at everything that's happened! Look at what happened to _you!_ If... if you'd never met him, you could've just lived a happy life as our Princess and you would've... you would've been _happy."_

 _"You're wrong!"_

Her answer comes out as a scream that sends ripples scattering over the waters around Istar, a primal, _furious_ sound torn from her throat once she could no longer take it. She can see her reflection in the bardess' surprised gaze, see just how manic she must appear to her in the blue of her eyes, but far from making her calm down, it only makes her grit her teeth all the more as she began to speak.

"I'm happy _because_ I'm with Sir Meliodas—whenever I'm with him I feel happier than I'd ever thought I could be! He _makes_ me happy. I..." the words she wants to say linger on her tongue but, no, if she were to ever finally say it, she wanted it to be to _him,_ would want him to be the first to hear those words from her lips. Instead, she takes a deep breath and glares. "I can't imagine what sort of life you think I should be having but I already know I'd be miserable living it."

Solatido's protest was immediate. "Lady Elizabeth, he's _filth_ —"

"What right do you or anyone have to decide what's filth or not?!" she shouts, eyes blazing. "He's a good man who's only ever done his best to _be_ good, not just to me but to _everybody!_ And you're calling him _'filth'?_ Why?! Just because he's a _demon?!"_

Solatido did not respond. All she could do was stare, wide-eyed and absolutely dumbstruck, as Elizabeth's voice rose even further, her passion, her _emotions_ making her cheeks burn and her eyes water—not from sadness or sorrow, but from _rage,_ an indignation that set her blood boiling like it had never before.

Elizabeth has to force herself to calm before speaking again, has to give herself a moment to figure out exactly how she wants to say what she means to _make_ Solatido understand it. "Because if it's because he's a demon that you're calling him 'filth'—why should just being a demon make him filth?" she asks, as calmly as she could manage. "He's always doing his best to keep doing good and if someone like _that_ can be called filth just because of what he is... what right do you have to judge all demons without looking at their actions? What right does _anyone_ have to decide an entire people's worth?! No matter what you might call them, the demon clan... th-they're all _people,_ just like any other race! Demons, humans, fairies, giants... at the end of the day, when we're all standing under the same skies... we all have _value_ and neither you nor _anyone_ gets to decide otherwise!"

There is a silence after her outburst, the night quiet save for her breathing as she fought to bring it back under control. In contrast, Solatido didn't seem to need to breathe. The four-winged bardess only hovered in place, absolutely still, eyes unreadable. You could've heard a pin drop in that absolute silence.

If she'd had her outburst for any other reason, perhaps she might've felt guilty for her actions, for the distress she'd so clearly caused. As it was, she didn't. She could never stand anyone insulting Meliodas, not after everything he'd already been through. And, even knowing what the demons had done since they'd broken free from their seal... the thought of someone deciding their worth based on what they were and what they were alone, without caring for what they'd done and what they were trying to be as people...

She would never stand for it.

"... you really haven't changed at all, Lady Elizabeth," the little bard says, at last, looking at her, fondness and exasperation warring in the blue of her eyes. "I will never understand how someone of your stature could become so devoted to those... to a criminal like _him."_

She can't help it. "Sir Meliodas isn't a criminal!" she bursts out hotly. "He's—he might've done terrible things, before, but he's been—he's already atoned enough! He's worked for so long and so hard to make up for it... I won't let you call him that!"

Something like a smile graces Solatido's face. She hadn't seemed to take offense at Elizabeth's outburst. If anything, there was... something like fondness in her eyes, now. "I know you won't. I can't say I understand you and I won't pretend to, but..." she looks at her, expression unreadable, before finally smiling, hesitantly at first but bright enough to rival the stars. "... I will abide by your wishes, as always, Lady Princess," she informs her. "Don't be so surprised, Princess," she adds, seeing the shock on her face. "If there's one thing I would hope you never forget, it's that I will always be on your side. I swear that on my life."

"That's..." her voice falters, the sincerity, the _warmth_ in Solatido's expression catching her off-guard. There was something close to reverence in the bardess' gaze but, more than that... there was something almost _familial,_ too. "I... thank you. I'm... I'm _honored,"_ she finally says, composing herself enough to offer a shy smile back. Then, she hesitates. "But... if I may ask... why do so much for me? Who are you, really?"

For the briefest, most fleeting moment, she thinks she might've seen something like grief in her expression, only for the bardess to then laugh, the sound high and playful.

"You wound me! My lady princess, _I_ am the current leader of the druids. Jenna and Zaneli are my subordinates," she says. Then, she gave a regal bow, wings folding in so that she landed before her on one knee, head lowered, right hand held over her heart, though her expression rather took away from her pose' courtly effect. "And, starting from today, lady princess, _I,_ " she began to declare. "Will be your _personal_ instructor regarding the use of your powers."

She _stares._ "Wh-what?" she stammers. "L-Lady Solatido, I..."

"—I am at your service, lady princess," she finishes for her. In her position, Solatido's folded wings almost resembled a knight's cape. She extended the hand not over her heart, eyes twinkling. "Only if you have no complaints, of course?"

She shakes her head. "N-no! Of course not. I-it's such an honor that you're..." Now, the heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with anger, only embarrassment. To think, the leader of the druids was here to _personally give_ her lessons after... after she'd been so _rude._ Of course, it was only because she'd said all that about Sir Meliodas... but still! She won't regret that she said those things but, she could've—in hindsight, she could've been _calmer_ about it. "I—thank you so much!"

She accepts Solatido's hand. Her hand is small but strong. A sudden breeze sent the leaves flying around them in a swirl of green just as she pulled the little bardess to her feet and Solatido's smile is bright when she does.

"It's my pleasure to be of service to you, Lady Elizabeth," she says simply, sincerely. "Always."

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Valley of Fossils, dragon carcasses littered the grounds of their once-clean campsite. Silver alone sat awake by the fire as he slowly and steadily re-sharpened his blade. He'd volunteered to take the first watch for the evening—not that any of his traveling companions actually heard it. After the last of the hourglass dragons had been slain and harvested for heartscales, all Gilfrost and the three Holy Knights could do was crawl into their tents and before collapsing onto their bedrolls, absolutely exhausted. For his part, while he was certainly in better condition, Silver couldn't find it in himself to blame them. In a single day, they slew and butchered thirteen full-grown hourglass dragons, a feat unheard even in the entirety the Liones Holy Knights' long, storied history.

"All the same, I had to do a lot of the heavy lifting back there. They still have a lot to learn," he mutters, his thoughts lingering the three in the tent, with his son, of course, at the forefront. It doesn't disappoint him really. If anything, it actually makes him...well, _happy._ "I guess Sir Meliodas was right after all... he does still need me."

He lets his gaze wander over to the sleeping Gilthunder and, for a moment, just stares. The last he'd seen him, he'd been a boy knee-high to a grasshopper, always curious, always energetic, always determined to prove himself... he was so different now. His son had become a man, serious and driven, an exemplar of a knight, as he'd heard him be called. _His_ son.

He's proud, of course.

He just wishes he'd been there for him as he'd grown.

Just wishes it wasn't his _own_ death that had eventually led to such growth.

"But that sort of thinking isn't going to get me anywhere, is it?" he sighs, with an irritable shake of his head. He lets himself look at his son again, before looking down at his own hands. Despite the circumstances, his hands were undeniably real, solid, strong, and even warm. Despite the cold of the evening air, he strips the gauntlet and glove from his left hand, examining how it looked in the flickering firelight. It looked exactly as it had before everything went down all those years ago; an ordinary hand and nothing more, nothing less. "Not when I have a chance to make things right."

Before he'd been brought back, before that swirl of power that had inexorably drawn him back... he'd been at peace in the Capital of the Dead, with his beloved Renee and all the friends and family he'd lost over the years. He'd been happy, _content,_ really yet, despite everything...

... he always wished he could've been there for his son. He'd always wished he could've guided him as he'd grown.

"I can make things right," he says to himself. He stares at his reflection on his sword's freshly-sharpened blade before taking a breath and lifting his visor. His reflection stares grimly back at him and he can't help but smile at the sight of himself, almost amused. "... I can be such a coward sometimes, eh, Renee?" he muses, lifting his gaze to the skies. "Tomorrow, I'll tell him everything. Everything we ever wanted to tell our boy... I'll make sure he hears it from me, loud and clear."

The skies provide no answer but he thinks he hears a ghost of a laugh and imagines his wife with him, as the two of them had always been there for their son over the years. It makes him smile.

Then a shadow fell over the moon and all of his hairs stood on end, his every instinct screaming as a chill raced down his spine.

The skies overhead were darkening, the light of the previously-brilliant full moon being smothered as... _something_ sped through the open air. He might've thought them clouds on sight but some instinct, some internal sense of _wrongness_ had him on his feet once more, sword held ready, visor once again over his face as he squinted up into the darkness and saw—

"Demons," Silver whispers, sword going slack in his grip. "The demon clan, they're...!"

That something was an entire _army_ of demons, from the minuscule whites to enormous grays, their gaps filled in with _monsters,_ vile abominations of twisted, tainted flesh, all of them flying on dark wings as they raced through the skies. From their distance, they looked like not much more than specks but there were just so _many_ of them, they covered the skies in their entirety and, with them, they brought a miasma thick enough that he wanted to choke at the scent of it. Even from this distance, the air was becoming putrid in their wake. They didn't seem to notice him or any of his companions but that brought him no comfort.

"Get up! All of you!" he barks, not even sparing his companions a glance as he raced up onto a vantage point to observe the demons' trail, his exhaustion forgotten in the face of the _swarm_ infesting the skies. _"Now!"_

His desperation must've leaked into his voice because Gilthunder, Gilfrost, and Jericho were all up within seconds, all of them still looking dazed from their sudden awakenings but already pulling on what armor or equipment they'd taken off for the night with an automatic efficiency, his son the fastest of them all. He doesn't need to look to know that they saw the threat; he heard the exact moment they processed the threat before them, a moment filled with outbursts of shock and surprised swears.

"Mmf... what's going on?" Howzer, alone, remained prone on his bedroll, blinking blearily up at his companions as he slowly began to pull himself up into a sitting position. "'S the middle of the night..."

 _"Howzer,"_ Gilthunder hisses. "Get up! _Look!"_

Despite himself, Zaratras sneaks a glance back at them. His son had already finished re-equipping himself as a Holy Knight of Liones. In place of the shield that had been destroyed during the fight with the first hourglass dragon, he was holding the charm the second Meliodas had Merlin give to him, a length of golden cord hung with incantation orbs, some for teleportation Merlin had made to ease their travels, others for healing and protection. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looked alert as he looked up into the skies and saw the same sight that had so horrified him before, his own sword drawn as he went to his side by the vantage point he'd chosen.

Even through all the fear the sight of the demon army brought in him, he can't help but feel something of a thrill to have his son by his side, as well as a warm glow of pride at what a good knight his son had become.

He doesn't have the time to let it show, however, so he doesn't.

"Holy shit, what the—" Howzer was sputtering, gaping openly at the swarm racing through the skies, now fully awake once more as he hastily began to rearm himself. _"How are there so many demons?!"_

"The demon clan must be on the move," Gilfrost mutters, hands white around his staff as he levitated into position. His eyes were wide and terrified. "There's so many of them...!"

"What are we going to do? W-we're going to have to stop them, right?!" Jericho demands. The fear in her voice was obvious but the look in her eyes was resolute and her grip on her sword was surprisingly steady. "Right?!"

Though hidden by his helmet, Silver smiles a death's head grin. His drawn sword began to glow with a faint light as he readied it by his side. "Of course."

Before them all, the swarm flew, vast enough to cover the skies.

"Get ready."

* * *

They've already had a full day to get used to the idea but it still comes as a shock to see the two Meliodas side by side, theirs still in bed, sitting propped up against the pillows, and the one from the future on a chair by his side, matching grins on their faces as they watched them enter the room one at a time, all of the Sins present—save, notably for the future's Ban and Gowther, who was standing in Ban's usual place at the foot of their Meliodas' bed, eyes unreadable as he watched them from behind his glasses.

"Yo!" the Meliodas from the future is the one to greet them. "Thank you all for coming here so quickly."

"You guys called a meeting, didn't you? You'd have kicked our asses if we were slow." Ban drawls. Despite his glib tone, however, there was a tension in his posture and his eyes were somber. "How're you feeling, Cap'n?" he asks the Meliodas in bed. "I haven't seen you out of your room all day... you alright?"

"'Course I am! I don't even feel 'em anymore!" was his immediate, flippant response, puffing out his chest. However, at a look from his counterpart, he winces and settles back against his pillows. "... I... don't feel too great," he admits. "My hearts are back in perfect condition but aside from that, I'm still..." He lifts the sleeve from his right arm, revealing the regrowing but still gruesome-looking stump. "Not great. Ban—that other Ban's Gift is pretty amazing but it's kinda slow. I mean, I've got my elbow back!" he adds, looking cheerful as he lifted said elbow and began to flex it—what little of it was there. "But... since Gift is focusing on my arm at the moment, the rest of me's... well..."

"Not great," his future self supplies. "Elizabeth's fixed a lot of it but, for the time being, he's going to be on bed rest for a while. It'll be fine, though!"

"Are you sure?" Diane asks, concern obvious as she walked over to his side, King following behind her. "Elizabeth might not be back for days! Captain, are you really going to be alright?"

The one from the future is the one to answer, a warm smile on his face. "Of course. I'm made of pretty sturdy stuff, you know!" he says reassuringly. "Besides, Ban's Gift is _really_ effective. As long as he's around, we'll be fine."

Their Ban snorts. "Definitely," he says quietly. For a moment, his eyes were downcast but before anyone could comment, his usual smirk was on his face as he faced their Meliodas, one eyebrow quirked. "So, Cap'n, what's this meeting about?" he asks. "Not that I'm not happy seeing you or anything but it's been a while since you've called for any _official_ meetings."

Theirs coughs. "Right," he says. "So... the thing is, what we told little Gil, Hendy, and the others... it wasn't a lie per se but it wasn't the _whole_ truth."

King stiffens. "The _whole_ truth?" he repeats. Cautiously, he approached, landing just by Diane's side, though his eyes remained fixed on Meliodas. "What do you mean by that, Captain?"

"There's a lot of stuff we didn't mention back there," the one from the future answers, expression turning serious. "I— _we_ trust them with our lives but... it's _personal._ We trust them with our lives but... you're the Sins. More than anyone, I think you guys deserve to know everything."

King has to swallow before he can speak. "Why?" he has to ask. "You've never—before now, you never even gave us the chance to know about all of this! Why are you telling us all of this now?"

Theirs is the one to answer, this time, his expression turning remorseful. "Because now I know what could happen if I don't," he answers simply. "You guys have always deserved to know everything. It's just that, before now, I was..."

"... I was just scared," the one from the future is the one to finish. He looked bitter as he looked down at his hands, eyes distant. "Back then. Even now, really. In a lot of ways, it was just... easier to keep things the way they were, to just try and live without looking back but..." he releases a long breath. "Now, it would just be unfair to you guys. Because this fight with the Ten Commandments, the Holy War—it all dates back to what happened all those years ago. The reason there even _was_ a war was because of me. Me and... Elizabeth."

There is a sharp intake of breath. For a moment, it seemed all the Sins, save the two Meliodas and Gowther, had been stunned into silence. They'd been made aware of this, of course, during their Captain's ultimately disastrous fight with the Ten Commandments but to hear him admit it so _plainly_... it should've been hard to believe but, somehow, looking at the two versions of their Captain, it really wasn't.

Yet, all the same... how in the world could _Elizabeth_ be involved in the start of a war over five thousand years past?

"It would just be unfair for me to expect you guys to keep fighting without knowing the reason why," their Meliodas continued. His gaze was downcast, his one hand clenched into a fist, and his eyes similarly distant as his counterpart's were. "You're my friends. If there's anyone I can trust with this... it's you. It's not going to be easy," he hastened to add. "What we're going to tell you—what we're going to _show_ you—it's a long story that spans over three thousand years and _none_ of it is easy to hear. I won't force any of you to go through it. You can leave now if you don't really want to, but... you at least deserve the chance to hear it from me."

"Captain..." King didn't know what to say.

"I really won't force you!" the Meliodas from the future says hastily, apparently misinterpreting King's expression. "If you don't want to, it's fine! I understand completely; it really is a lot to go through. I just wanted to make sure _you_ guys had the option to... to hear it from me."

It's then that King remembered: for all that the Meliodas from the future seemed as cheerful as could be... he had _died,_ in his future. He might've looked more... well, _alive_ compared to their Captain but _theirs_ had been saved from death while he... _hadn't._ For all intents and purposes, he was just a ghost like Helbram. A very _solid_ ghost, sure, but still just that.

He'd never thought of it but the him from that future, he and the Sins who'd remained after... after their Captain had died and Ban had left to save what was left of him... what happened to them?

While he was lost in thought, Escanor had begun to speak. "I... I won't say I understand what exactly you're going to show us, Captain," he was saying. It was the middle of the night and his form reflected it but despite that, his eyes carried an echo of the same steel his noon-form always did, and it made him seem tall even in the dark of the night. "But... it seems you've had to go through this... _alone_ for all this time and no matter what it is... you shouldn't have to keep carrying such a burden alone. I would... if it's alright, I... I want to hear it."

"Escanor..." their Meliodas says, looking rather taken aback. "You don't need to do that for me."

"I want to," he answers, simply but firmly. "Y-you've always been here for us, Captain. L-let me do the same for you."

"Yeah!" Diane bursts out. While there was a pensiveness to her expression, there was determination burning bright in her eyes. "I won't pretend I understand everything. I still don't understand everything from last night or... or even all our adventures from before I lost my memories," she admits. "But... I'm part of the Seven Deadly Sins, too, and I want to be here for you. You're my friend, Captain. Even before all..." she waved vaguely at her own head. _"This,_ I remember you being there for me. I want to do the same."

"... Alright," is all their Captain could say, disbelief clear on his face, eyes wide but warm. "I... thanks, Diane." He seems to need to take a moment to recompose himself and, once he does, he looks to King, expression questioning. "What about you?"

King nods. "I want answers," he says first, sounding almost gruff before he swallows and continues: "I want to trust you." His answer seemed to rather startle both Diane and Escanor, though neither of the Meliodas seemed surprised, Gowther showed no reaction, and Ban, of course, already knew. He forges on. "I... I know you're not one of _them,"_ he says. "I don't know what you're hiding or-or _why_ you're hiding so much but... you're my friend. I... no matter what, I want to help you."

Their Meliodas only manages a smile in his usual unreadable, seemingly unflappable fashion but his future counterpart beams, and it is warm, bright, and so absolutely open, King, who's never been good at reading hearts like his sister can, thinks he can read his every emotion in the depths of his eyes, so intensely _grateful,_ he feels almost embarrassed to have caused it.

"I told you, our friends are great, aren't they?" that Meliodas says to theirs, looking almost _shamelessly_ sunny before finally turning to Ban. "And you?

Ban scoffs. "Y'have to ask?" he drawls, to which both Meliodas chuckle. "Didn't think so."

"Alright, then!" their Meliodas says decisively. "Now, Gowther—"

"W-wait, Captain!" Escanor suddenly interrupts, making them all turn to him. He looked hesitant under their collective gaze—more so than usual, anyway, given that he was in his midnight form—but forges on regardless. "Wh-what about Lady Merlin?" he finally says. "Shouldn't she be here as well? A-and that other Ban—shouldn't he be here too?"

"Merlin already knows about what I'm gonna tell you," their Meliodas says casually, to all their surprise. His expression looked almost cheeky. "We've been friends for a long time, you know."

"A really long time," the other Meliodas concurs. Unlike him, his expression had turned almost soft. "She was there when it all began so it's not like it was ever a secret from her. And Ban—the Ban from my time already knows, of course," he adds, looking to their Ban with something of a smile. "It's... actually related to the reason why he got me out from Purgatory." He coughs. "So, Gowther, if you could explain the plan..."

Gowther first adjusts his glasses before beginning to speak. "Due to the sheer volume of information, the Captains have decided that it would be unfeasible to relay through speech. As such, it falls to me!" He suddenly struck a cutesy idol-like pose, one finger pointing at himself, all while his expression remained absolutely deadpan. "To use my powers to transmit that Captains' memories directly into your minds."

"Oh! Like what you did for me?" Diane asks, looking curiously at her fellow Sin, to which he nods.

"Precisely," he says. "As such, you will all experience the events we plan to show you through the Captain's point of view, exactly as the Captain remembers experiencing it."

"It's going to be pretty intense," their Meliodas warns. "I'm just saying that if any of you want to back out—"

The chorus of refutals from the rest of the Sins cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, making the future Meliodas snicker.

"Thought as much," the future Meliodas says, smirking at his counterpart. "... It _is_ going to be pretty intense, though. Just, brace yourselves before we get started. If any of you are hungry or thirsty or need to take a leak, you better go now. We're going to be here for a while."

"How long are we talking here?" Ban asks, one eyebrow raised.

Gowther is the one to answer. this time."There are millions of years' worth of memories between the two Captains," he informs them, prompting many muffled exclamations of shock and disbelief, though he ignored it all as he continued. "The Captains will be guiding us so that we will only have to go through the relevant portions but I predict we will be here for at least the night."

"How can you have millions of years of memories?!" King burst out. He was just _boggled._ As a Fairy King, he was already much more long-lived than most but he didn't expect to live past five thousand years. Even his predecessor, the Fairy King Dahlia, a full-fledged Fairy King with magnificent, full-grown wings... even she hadn't lived anywhere near that long. Millions of years...

"It'll all be explained," their Meliodas promises. "But, first—do any of you need to eat first? Drink? No?"

"I... I think w-we're all just interested in hearing about this, now, Captain," Escanor answers weakly. He looked so shaken; it almost looked like that reveal had taken a physical toll on him. "Whatever, erm, _this_ is."

The future Meliodas nods. "Alright, then. Are you ready, Gowther?"

Gowther readjusts his glasses before holding out his arms by his sides. The Sacred Treasure Harlot materialized from his outstretched hands, making it look as if he were holding out bolts of pink lightning.

"Of course," he says. With the way that the light from his manifested Sacred Treasure bounced off of his glasses, his eyes were hidden in the glare of his lenses. "Firstly, however, I would recommend you all hold hands."

"Eh?! H-hold hands?!" King was horribly flustered as he looked from Gowther to Diane then back again. "Is... is that really necessary?!"

"It's easier for me to transmit memories en-masse when there's contact between those I'm transmitting to," he explains. "Normally, it isn't necessary but the current circumstances deem it such." He then tilts his head to one side. "Why are you asking?"

He's trying to come up with a response when a hand grasps his own as easily as anything, warm, soft, _strong_ fingers entwining around his as if they belonged there. He can feel his face burning as he slowly looked up to face the culprit.

"Come on, King," Diane says encouragingly. Her smile was warm, wide, and friendly. At her side, though he looked rather timid about it, Escanor was already holding her hand, with an unconcerned Ban holding his other. "We're friends, right? There's no need to be embarrassed!"

The future Meliodas then walked on over to his side and took his other hand, smiling all the while, their Meliodas' one hand in his other. "C'mon, King, lighten up!" he tells him. "Just think of it like a... friendly bonding exercise for us Sins, just like old times."

"We have literally _never_ had one of those before, Captain," Ban retorts, smirking. His expression fell, however, once he looked down at their Meliodas who was at his side. "How're we gonna do this, Cap'n?"

"Just hold my stump," their Meliodas tells him, looking supremely unconcerned as waved the shortened and still very gruesome-looking limb at his friend. "Just, ah, avoid holding where the bone's still stickin' out. It itches."

"Uh... sure." Ban, who generally considered his own dismemberments an annoyance at their very worst, looked discomforted at the sight of it. He gingerly placed his hand on their Captain's shoulder, instead, seeming unable to look at where the arm ended for too long. "... so, are we doing this or what?"

"I will begin," Gowther announces. "Captains?"

Both nod.

 _"Searchlight."_

What looked like pink lightning bolts shot out from his extended fingers and into the Captains' foreheads, making both tense, though not, it seemed, from pain. Behind his glasses, Gowther's eyes were gleaming as he raised his other hand, tracing a line of light in the air as he met their eyes and stared at their joined hands, his fingers sparking with a steadily intensifying pink light, bright enough to fill the room and chase away all the shadows of the night.

 _"Broadcast!"_

A bolt of pink light slammed through all of their foreheads, making them gasp at the impact as the magic of it made their surroundings fade in a rush of noise, light, and sensation as they first seemed to fall through an infinitely empty space before new surroundings, new sounds, new lights, and new sensations filled that void, completely different from those of Meliodas' room in the Boar Hat and those of a time long since passed. Each opened their eyes to the sight of the world as it had been all that time ago through eyes that weren't their own. If it were not for the faintest ghost of pressure they felt where hand met hand, where skin touched skin, they might've thought they'd become alone.

A long story was going to be told.

* * *

Outside the room, Ban felt uneasy.

He'd been standing guard since the night began and now, he knew, it was finally really getting started. He'd _felt_ a frisson go down his spine as he sensed Gowther's magic, even before he'd seen the pink light flashing even through the tiles that formed the roof shingles of the Boar Hat. He'd been tempted to go sneak a glance but he knew it would've been pointless and so he hadn't. There had been no screaming, no wild bursts of magic, no indication that their plan had begun to go awry—yet, all the same, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.

Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was some kind of sixth sense, hell, maybe it was some kind of memory—he doesn't understand it but there was something wrong and he knew it. Without a word, he slips out of the Boar Hat and onto its lookout, eyes wary, searching. Outside the Boar Hat, the night was calm and clear, the air cold against his skin. At this time of night, Liones had long become quiet. With only very few exceptions, most of the populace had already gone in for the evening. The only ones still moving around were the knights with the bad luck to draw the evening patrols, and even they looked as if they would prefer nothing more than to go to bed and finish their shifts already. Ban can see all of this at a glance from his vantage point at the Boat Hat's lookout balcony, but while that should've been comforting, it only makes him tense.

While the kingdom itself seemed calm, something felt amiss. He didn't have anything to go off of but he couldn't have endured centuries of Purgatory without learning to trust in his instincts. It was distant but he could sense something—

 _"Shit."_ He hadn't even meant to say it, his "Damn it...!"

But if he left them now—

He swears and steals a glance through the Captain's window, squinting through the brilliant pink light flooding the room to look at his friends inside.

Though normally easily some of the best warriors in all of Britannia, currently, all of the Sins in the Captain's room were sitting unresponsive to the world around them. Gowther had warned them early on that there was no easy way to stop once the Broadcast began. For all intents and purposes, they were all sitting ducks. If anything came to attack them, if the Commandments came to try and finish what they'd already started—

He grits his teeth.

" _Helbram, get over here!"_

Though he'd been inside, in the middle of a conversation with Elaine, the fairy ghost is by his side in a flash, eyes wide. "What is it?!"

Without any word of greeting, he jerks his head to the window he'd been looking at, to his friends all lost to memories within. "Watch over them," he says quietly. "Something's coming."

Though initially taken aback, Helbram is quick to nod. "Where will you be?"

He bares his fang in a grin, though one without any humor. "I'm going to _welcome_ them."

"You're going to _what?!"_

The squeal stops him in his tracks. Hawk was gaping at him from the door leading to the lookout.

"Where are you going? What were you talking about?!" he demands in a torrent of rapid-fire questions. "And-and who the heck are you talking to?!"

He doesn't really mean to but his next words come out in an angry growl. "Master, I don't have the _time_ for—"

He feels it.

He whips around to look in the direction of what he'd sensed, so close now that he could smell a trace of its approach in the air—a distinctive scent like the sweetness of carrion and rotting flowers mixed with that of ozone and ashes. He recognizes it now. It transforms his expression into one of deadly, deathly calm, eyes narrowing into slits.

"... Get Slader to get the other Holy Knights to suit up," he orders curtly, looking not at Hawk or even Helbram but into the distance, far beyond the walls of the kingdom. His eyes were gleaming the color of blood. His voice was cold enough that even Hawk shut up and just stared. "Trouble's coming."

Then, without another word, he leaps.

He leaps with enough force that the lookout of the Boar's Hat is left cratered in his wake, leaving an explosion of dust and smoke and a protesting, disbelieving Hawk standing in the room's remains. He neither notices nor cares. He moves with all the speed he can muster, a speed that even Meliodas had never been able to beat on his own, footsteps leaving craters in his wake. The interior of the capital of Liones blurs into its outskirts, then far beyond as he ran with all the speed of a man possessed, following to where his every instinct was screaming at him to avoid without pause or break. He might've been running for minutes or even hours and he wouldn't have noticed through the _fury_ he felt thundering through the entirety of his being as he followed his instincts, his intuition—

To face where Estarossa was flying on dark wings, eye searching, his figure silhouetted by the fullness of the moon bright overhead

He skids to a stop before him, his back to the kingdom miles beyond. He meets his gaze when the demon takes notice of him He stands, tall and proud and unyielding.

"Well, well, well," the demon drawls, eyeing him he always did—contemptuous, proud, and, above all, _dismissive_. His wings were large enough to leave Ban cast in a shadow a mile wide. "A gnat."

Ban only looks coldly back. "... You're not getting him," he states without bothering with any preamble.

"Oh?" He only seemed amused. "And who's going to stop me?"

Ban does not smile. He merely remained standing, eyes narrowed into slits, and arms crossed as he stared up at Estarossa, animosity obvious despite his quiet, his apparent calm.

"I will."

* * *

 **Whew, writer's block's tough and night classes are a killer. I honestly meant to post this all the way back at the start of** **the month but midterms burnt me out something awful and Sariel was waaay chattier than I'd initially planned.** **I hope this was enjoyable, at least.**

 **Coming up next: fight scenes and a literal trip down memory lane. Expect explosions.**

 **On a... relatively unrelated note, since it's my birthday, I'm trying to spread some cheer. Around next week, I'll be posting either a oneshot along the lines of Stagnation or an update to Oft-Sprung Surprise. Whichever I finish first.**

 **Anyway, all feedback's appreciated and have a nice day.**


	10. The Storm

**...**

 **I LIVE.**

 **Yeah, sorry 'bout the... wait. Can't really defend myself, I'm sorry. Part of why this took so long was because of all the new canon I had to take into account and all the plans I had to reconsider. The perils of writing fanfic for an unfinished series, I guess. The other part... college. Speaks for itself, yeah? In theory, quarantine oughta give you more time to write but it just ended up meaning boatloads of papers.**

 **Though, on a brighter note, I am on a roll, honorably speaking. Worth it~**

 **Hope that this is, in some way, worth it too. Enjoy.**

* * *

On the wall of Castle Liones stood a row of Holy Knights, their weapons and armor glistening under the light of the full moon. At their head stood a massive man, armor minimal in contrast to his companions, a sword and a mask held in his hands as he surveyed the kingdom for anything amiss.

For the time being, there was nothing. Nothing yet.

Yet, Slader couldn't help but feel tense all the same. They'd had a long day today, what with all the briefings on all the insane information about the demon clan he and that future Ban had had to discuss with all the rest of the Holy Knights outside of their circle. All the discussions had left him absolutely exhausted... and yet, he just _couldn't_ rest. Even before Hawk had come banging on his door, he'd been unable to sleep. The Sins would be... _inactive_ tonight, he kept remembering Merlin warning him, and while there'd been no sign that there'd be need of them tonight, it made him uneasy. Especially now, when he knew, in his bones, that something was going to happen. Something wrong. Something huge.

The other knights don't seem to share his sentiments (he could _hear_ Marmas stifling yawns behind his helmet) and he's caught more than one glaring at Hawk, the pig now trotting nervous circles around him, but they quail and get back into position whenever they notice his gaze. Whatever their personal feelings at this moment, they would remain on guard. He'll make sure of it. He has to. Tonight was a bad night.

A fetid wind blew past, sweltering against his skin in contrast with the previously cold evening air.

That is when they hear the shouts.

Backlit by the silver of the moon were three, enormous, _monstrous_ creatures blazing with black fire as they descended upon Liones on dark, flaming wings. One was insectoid and held a resemblance to a centipede, with a segmented, bone-like carapace the same color as an oil slick, scythe-like forearms, and a mouth that opened to reveal a gaping, tooth-lined _maw_. Another—another almost resembled a horse but _twisted._ It was a creature of exposed gristle roughly the shape of a horse but the size of an elephant, its skeletal head exposing its bulging brain, a mane of demonic fire roiling from its head down the length of its back ( _its spine_ ). The last was the most similar to that first red demon they'd seen what felt like a lifetime ago—but this one had a face that was undoubtedly canine as it landed on four legs, leaving black flames wherever its limbs touched, red flesh gleaming slickly in the torchlight.

Dimly, Slader suddenly realizes that with their arrival came a thick black haze, obscuring the moon and stars, leaving them in a dark their lanterns and lamps were only barely able to pierce through. From that haze, snow fell.

Black snow.

Just like...

He breathes in. He breathes out.

This was trouble he knew was beyond what he and the available Holy Knights could feasibly handle. If the Seven Deadly Sins were here it would be a different story but as Merlin had warned him, they were unavailable tonight. Even knowing, that, excepting Merlin herself, the Sins were all present, he knew that he and the Holy Knights would be receiving no aid from them that night.

They would be on their own.

He breathes in, long and slow. Holds it.

Him. Simon. Marmas. Gustaf. Guila. The Pleiades of the Azure Sky, or at least what few were still able to move after their encounter with Dreyfus. No Gilthunder, no Howzer, no Jericho, no Hendrickson, and, of course, no Sins.

"Slader! _Slader?!_ Are you seeing this?!" he hears Hawk screeching through the haze. "Demons—"

He exhales.

Tonight really was a bad night.

But there was nothing else for it.

"I know."

He finally pulls on his mask, allowing himself a moment to take whatever comfort he could from its familiar weight, before rushing forward, weapon held at the ready as he rushed to begin the fight, his Holy Knight companions following behind, obviously afraid but unhesitant all the same.

"Defend the city! _To battle!"_

* * *

The Broadcast was a nightmarish experience in and of itself.

From the moment King had left that brief void between reality and memory, he is thrust into a world of sensations he's just not used to, feeling his body move, speak, and react in ways he is powerless to control. Once upon a time, long before the Seven Deadly Sins had first been chased out of the Liones, he'd had the 'pleasure' of getting struck by one of Gowther's _Jack_ arrows for himself and it had been horrible _,_ being a prisoner in his own skin as Gowther literally made him bend to his will—yet, all the same, _this_ was worse because, now, he was a prisoner in a skin that wasn't _his,_ a body that didn't seem to _fit_ as it moved without a care for his will.

If it were but for the faintest ghost of pressure around his hands, a constant and comforting reminder that he wasn't alone in this, he might've panicked after the first few, absolutely discomforting minutes. He can neither hear nor see the rest of his companions but he takes whatever solace he can get from the knowledge of their presence in this nightmare of a situation.

Fittingly, the first memory in itself was a scene out of a nightmare.

Meliodas was, of course, a demon. That, they'd long since known and accepted, but in truth, he was much, much more than just that.

Once upon a time, he'd been a demon of the highest rank, the heir apparent for the kingship over the Demon Clan. Meliodas was the prided firstborn son of the Demon King himself, raised to be the paragon of all demonkind, unfeeling, cold, efficient, and powerful beyond words. He was revered by the Demon Clan and feared all throughout Britannia. Everything he did, he did on the orders of his father, the Demon King, for the advancement of the Demon Clan as a whole.

And it was vile.

Once upon a time, he'd been known as the cruelest, most ruthless demon to have ever lived, and the scenes King saw, the scenes the Captain allowed to be shown, made his blood run cold in his veins. He feels sick.

And he wants to look away but he can't. It's worse than any horror show. The Captain was unrelenting, unstoppable, and _cold._ Whatever suspicions he may have had, whatever fears he may have nursed, none of it, absolutely none of it, compared to the scenes he was seeing today. This was Meliodas as the Commander of the Ten Commandments, the bearer of the Commandment of Love. Goddesses, humans, fairies, giants—he hears their screams, sees their pleas, and watches as they all fall beneath the shadow of the past Meliodas' blade—and disappear.

And the Captain, the Meliodas of this time long past, he doesn't once flinch.

He sees battle after battle at the Ten Commandments' side—no, at the Ten Commandments' _helm_ , witness (and _experience)_ centuries of bloodshed, conflict, and absolute destruction. He gets to witness the protective partnership between Derieri and Monspiet, Galan's boisterous thirst for blood and battle, Zeldris' heartfelt diligence. Centuries worth of teamwork and camaraderie, of leading them in missions—he gets to see it all and, with it, the underlying threads of emotion associated with all of them, however faint they might have been.

He sees through the Captain's eyes as he returns from the battlefield to stand before the active Commandments present, Derieri, Monspiet, Galan, Kalmadios, Aranak, Zeno, Melascula, Gowther(?!), and Grayroad, as well as his only brother, Zeldris from when he was only the Demon King's executioner and not also the Commandment of Piety. He feels through his hands as he carelessly unveils his prize, the heads of thousands of the goddess clan's warriors, hears through his ears as the Commandments of back then, his allies, congratulate him on a job well done. As always.

(In the back of his mind, he knows it's necessary to see all of this—after all, hadn't he been the one _demanding_ information in the first place? Through this, he's learned more about the demons in a few minutes than he has since they've started fighting, from the way each individual Commandment fought, which Commandment he'd likely be particularly suited against, and even the tactics masses of demons often used. This was all incredibly useful information.

All the same, it made him almost too sick to bear.

"Stop it," he pleads, shaking, nauseated. "Stop it!"

"These are all memories," he hears the Captain's voice say, a whisper at the back of his mind. Within the memory, he can't move, can't see beyond what he was forced to experience and so wasn't sure which Captain was speaking but... that didn't matter. Whichever Captain it was, he sounded tired, worn, and so very old. "This all happened ages ago."

"Then why are you showing us this?!" he demands, and even mostly disconnected from his own body, he knows there're tears in his eyes as he does. "Of all the—of everything you could've shown, why _this?!"_

For the time being, neither Captain answers.)

He sees through the Captain's eyes as he raises his blade before the smallest goddess child, who looks before him with terrified eyes and broken wings. The order had been given to obliterate her hometown. A preemptive strike, his father had declared. In the memory, King feels Meliodas' own distaste for the act, can sense that the Captain had seen this as an ultimately pointless cruelty, that he knew this would not truly faze the Supreme Deity, that the eons-long conflict between the demon and goddess clan itself was nothing more than a senseless waste of time...

But that orders were orders

And so he doesn't even slow

("Because you needed to see it," finally comes the softest whisper of a response. He cannot see beyond what is being shown but he can sense the self-loathing dripping from the voice clear as day, and feels something in his real chest pang in response even as he does his best to look past it. "How I used to be."

"Why?" he demands, and he has to know. The Captain wasn't stupid, he had to know that this did nothing but exceed his worst suspicions, did nothing to allay his doubts and fears. How was this supposed to make him trust him, this was all just sick and he wants nothing more than for this to just stop—

"So you know what the Demon King wants me to become. This is what my father's curse is meant to turn me into," he says simply, and the words send chills down King's spine. "And so you know what you'll face if... if he ever gets what he wants. Because if I ever do turn back into that..." Here, he hesitates for a moment. King cannot see him but he can sense that he is almost physically steeling himself in order to speak his next words. However faintly he might have felt it, the future Captain's hand had gone cold in his. "I trust you to stop me.")

The memories go on. He wants to stop watching. He wants to look away.

Instead, he watches as the Meliodas of a time long past as he indiscriminately performed every task as he is given. Instead, he watches the slaughter, the bloodshed, the brutality, and doesn't once look away.

He stays. He watches. He sees the events as they happen, forces himself to focus even as the events he had to experience made him feel sick to his stomach until—

The Captain meets a woman of the goddess clan, the daughter of the Supreme Deity, and his equal and opposite. Her name... _Elizabeth._

* * *

There was no need for words; the moment Ban had made his declaration was the same moment Estarossa had gone to strike, darkness roiling off of him in a wave of vicious killing intent as he lunged for his heart. For his part, Ban does nothing to avoid this strike, moving instead to meet the full force of the attack head-on without hesitation, his blood singing in his veins as he prepared—

"Hmph."

"Oh?"

The strike came with all the force of a damned disaster but it doesn't do much more than glance off of his skin, centuries _(millennia)_ in Purgatory having turned his skin, his muscles, his _bones,_ into an armor all on its own. He barely even feels the attack and that surprises the smug bastard enough to give him the opportunity to slam a fist into his eye but Estarossa's darkness rears up to divert the strike away before he could bash his face in. The force of Ban's own momentum nearly sends him to the ground, giving the demon enough time to retake to the skies, his grin bloodthirsty as he began to prepare his own attack.

 _"Killi_ —"

But Ban was faster.

 _"Fox Hunt!"_

In the skies, backlit by the moon, Estarossa made such a perfect target, it would've been an insult to miss. His power lashes around the Estarossa's throat in an invisible lasso of force, making his eyes bulge as he gripped at the air around his neck, before Ban began to yank him over with force enough to tear a normal man's head clean off his shoulders—only for the air around Estarossa to combust in a sphere of black flames, forcefully cutting through his attack and freeing the demon so that he was free to retake to the skies once more, his eyes wary as he rubbed at the ring of bruising skin around his throat where Ban's power had damaged him even through the darkness constantly thrumming protectively beneath his skin.

His voice comes out hoarse when he tries to speak: "You're—"

But Ban doesn't care about _anything_ that bastard had to say.

 _"Sensory Hunt!"_

His power rips through the air in an invisible pulse of cold but Estarossa immediately swooped to avoid it the moment he'd heard the technique's name, diving to the side, wings momentarily wrapping around him in a protective cocoon of demonic flame, before he reemerged, so high in the skies, he was only barely visible, a pinprick of dark against the moon. Even so, he emanated so much malice, the weight of his mere presence could've crushed a man all on its own, even before he gathered his power and _hurled._

 _"Black Hound!"_

It was a wave of black fire so massive, it actually obscured the moon behind him as it chased towards Ban in the form of an enormous, monstrous dog, flames so hot the very grass around Ban's began to ignite, causing any wildlife still hiding to start fleeing in a panic—

But not Ban. Not at all.

"Stay _still_ you bastard!" Ban shouts, furious, frustrated, gathering power in his fists. _"Crazy Hunt!"_

This attack rips through the flaming hound in multiple, simultaneous waves of force, riddling it with massive holes before it was dissipated entirely in the winds that followed in the wake of Ban's strike, even as the attack itself kept speeding towards Estarossa, aiming for his throat, his heart, his wings, his arms, his skin—

Even before Ban had unleashed the attack, he knew it wasn't going to be perfect. Just looking in the bastard's direction made him see red like nothing else so it was hard to focus and he doesn't have a weapon to compensate, not Courechouse, not his nunchucks, not even a _stick_ —but he had his fists, his feet, and his _life_ , and it had to be enough.

"Gotcha."

Estarossa had been fast as he'd flown at ever-increasing speeds in his _pointless_ attempt to avoid the attack, but Ban was faster.

Ban's power latches onto Estarossa—his left arm, his right leg, his collarbone—and even before he knew it, Ban was dragging him down to the earth with enough force to tear him to pieces and the unexpected _pain_ of it was so much that he couldn't do much more than shout as he was reeled from the skies, only barely managing to keep himself together with his darkness and even then, only just. To that, Ban leapt to meet him, the sheer force of his jump enough to crater the ground where he stood, red eyes gleaming with a vicious light as he met Estarossa's eyes and began to aim.

His attack wasn't any kind of special technique or ability but a punch. Just his clenched fist in a punch delivered with all the force he could muster, enough that it _burned_ the very air around it, assuring the bastard's end with all the certainty of an executioner's blade. Though Ban, all but immune to anything less than the Demon King's own strikes after his experience in Purgatory, was unscathed by the superheated air, it burned Estarossa even through the darkness under his skin.

From an outside point of view, Ban, all but flying through the air from the force of his jump, the speed of his ascent leaving the air superheated in his wake, resembled a meteor racing through the skies while Estarossa, wreathed in flickering remnants of his darkness as it strained to keep him together, resembled nothing more than a _gnat._

Hurtling towards Ban's fist, for the very first time in his long, long life, Estarossa thought he truly saw death.

It only made him smirk.

 _"FULL COUNTER!"_

* * *

The next memories are a relief after what the first ones had been—after all the violence and bloodshed that came before, what came after was honestly _good for the soul_. Diane didn't think she could take much more of what had come before—they'd been awful, the stuff of nightmares, and just—just _unbelievable._ It had been sick and it had just been _wrong._ That Meliodas, who'd always been so kind to her, who'd never once made her feel unwelcome, could've ever once been that cold, terrifying, cruel demon... it was just too horrible, and she could hardly bear it—

So when _Elizabeth_ makes her appearance, coming down from high as a goddess, radiant and resplendent with four wings as the daughter of the Supreme Deity herself but still unmistakably the same Princess Elizabeth Liones who was her _friend_ , at first all Diane could think was thank goodness, it wasn't more of _that._

(As it had been from the start, she can feel his presence at the back of her mind. Meliodas, and this time, it didn't matter which one. He's quiet but she can feel something of an apology in the air of the memory for having to make her go through it and, even more than that, gratitude that she stayed despite it all.

"Well, of course, I did!" she blurts out, surprised. "All of it... it was all awful but... all of it was in the past and I _know_ you're different _now,_ Captain! You're my friend. I trust you."

He does not, at first, respond, though she can feel his surprise and affection warring at the other end of his line, to which she smiles in the only way she can before pressing on.

"And, besides... if you're willing to show us all of this awful stuff, doesn't that mean you trust us to stay anyway?"

"... you sure are amazing, Diane," he says, at last, after several moments of silence and she can just sense the smile in his voice, the honest mirth.

To that, she only beams)

She watches through his eyes as he first meets with the Elizabeth of that time, the Princess and his equivalent among the goddess clan, sees their first meeting, their first battles, their first conversations. She experiences his hearts pounding in his chest as the Captain finally began to feel things other than either the apathetic efficiency his father had taught him to nourish or the mindless bloodlust his nature as a demon would tempt him to indulge in. At first, she'd thought that she didn't feel emotions around the Commandments or the demons because they weren't really her memories but... he just literally didn't _feel_ them. He'd been taught against letting himself feel emotions for so long that he just... _didn't._

The first time he'd been able to feel... it was like being reborn. And it was just beautiful.

Feelings, emotions, he was able to feel them all because of Elizabeth. And the first thing he'd been able to feel...

It was love. Of course, it was.

("Elizabeth's a reincarnation," she realizes, and she can feel his wordless confirmation ring at the back of her head. "Elizabeth... she's the reincarnation of your first love! The goddess, Elizabeth..."

There's something wrong, there has to be something more to it, it's just too much of a coincidence that her reincarnation today would look so much like her but for the time being, she just thinks—

"That's so _romantic._ I wish someone would look at me like that, someday..."

She can't see him but, somehow, she can tell he's smiling.

"You will," he says as easily as if he was affirming an indisputable fact of life. She's still not sure which Captain is talking but she can almost imagine them side by side, both smiling twin, unreadable, and cheerfully knowing Cheshire grins. "In fact, I'm sure of it.")

What came next was a love story, plain and simple. Amidst the eons-old conflict between their clans, they fell in love with each other. The war that came after, she knows now through the benefit of hindsight, that war that had engulfed Britannia and all five races... in the end, what had truly catalyzed it was the Captain and Elizabeth falling in love.

("Exactly," he confirms, soft.)

They breeze past the details which, of course, she understands. The story was personal enough as it is and she wasn't going to begrudge him his boundaries, not after he'd opened up so much as it is. She's allowed the broad strokes. She sees how they meet, talk, and fall in love, and though they don't once dwell on any one of moments they'd shared, the scenes themselves are remembered with such warmth that it makes her own heart ache. It's beautiful. It was love. Of course, it was.

She watches through his eyes as he finally makes his decision to defect from the Demon King in truth, a vision of an eventual peace between his clan and hers burning in his hearts. She watches as he joins the forces of Stigma at the goddess Elizabeth's side, even knowing what his kind, his family, his _father_ would think of him. She watches through his eyes as Elizabeth stands up for him time and time again against the disdain of her own kind. She watches as they fight together, to end the war once and for all. She watches as he forges a companionship and, eventually, a friendship with the Giant King Drole and the Fairy King Gloxinia—not the demons she had become acquainted with on that awful, _terrible_ day but kings who genuinely lived up to their legends, fighting nobly for what they found just.

She watches as the Captain and Elizabeth become a pair then become a quartet with Drole and Gloxinia, gets to see days and days of strategizing against demons and demonic attacks, gets to witness how they fought together, from the easy partnership between Drole and Gloxinia and how they functioned as a unit, to their eventual tactics as a quartet with himself and Elizabeth

—and, most importantly, how they eventually became his friends after. At that time, they had become his closest friends, becoming for him then what the Seven Deadly Sins were now.

("They were some of the first real friends I had," he confirms. There is a trace of sadness in his voice, soft and understated, but one that she knew, in her current state, ran bone-deep; their loss was a pain that never faded. "They were my best friends."

Diane remembers their battle in Vaizel, how ruthlessly they'd fought against the Captain two-on-one, how they'd participated in the vicious, mostly onesided _nine_ -on-one, and how they didn't even flinch when that demon, the Captain's brother, had _brutalized_ him until the future visitors' arrival interrupted the ordeal.

"I know," he says softly. She still didn't know which Captain was speaking but she knew it didn't matter. "It was my fault."

She couldn't help herself. "Captain..."

"Just keep watching," is all she hears him say, whisper-soft. "You'll see.")

She watches the demon who'd been known as the vilest, most ruthless of all demonkind as he becomes the Captain as she's known him—only more earnest, more passionate, more open with his feelings than the Meliodas she'd known had ever been. The memories before this had been of the Captain as a tool, mindlessly subservient and beyond heartless. They'd been of the Captain at his _worst._

 _This,_ this was the Captain at his best, a person who loved and was loved, who'd learned to feel and empathize and did so wholeheartedly every day, who fought to atone for actions he knew now were sins and end the conflict that had sparked so much grief over the ages.

He fought every day, side by side with the goddess Elizabeth in a shining example of the kind of unity they hoped to one day achieve. Perhaps they could have eventually found a way to end the war in truth, if only they were able to continue as they were—

—and, of course, that's why the Demon King and the Supreme Deity choose to intervene.

* * *

Gilthunder would never admit it but when they first left for this mission, he, like Howzer, didn't think it was going to be too difficult. He'd skimmed the list, of course, but in the end, he thought they were just going to spend the first day on their quest picking _apples_ and while a lot of the things further down were... questionable (how _were_ they supposed to get the "nose hairs of a saturn titan"? They didn't _have_ nostrils), he was fairly sure they would be able to handle it. Amberapples, coal stitches, hourglass dragon heartscales—all of those, he'd read about and had some idea of how to attain.

However.

Quite frankly.

He didn't think they'd have to fight a _fucking army of demon_ s.

 _"Rising Tornado!"_

 _"Purge of the Thunder Emperor!"_

 _"Purge!"_

 _"Combined Technique!"_ Howzer is the one to shout, javelin raised to the sky as the winds whipped around him at ever-increasing speeds, forming a cyclone far greater than _Super Cyclone,_ what had once been his greatest storm. _"Holy Dragon Castle!"_

Though it was their first time trying such a trick, their magic combined seamlessly, their usual _Dragon Castle_ becoming infused with the sparkling light of druid magic, forming a gigantic dome of winds that crackled with lightning and shone with a light that rendered the demons surrounding them screaming from its radiance and outright disintegrating any demon caught within its dome. Its manifestation fells a large number of the horde from the sky, burnt and battered, but there were so many of them, many more remained unharmed.

When the strain of the technique became too overwhelming and they were forced to drop it, the demons roared as one and charged, a deluge of darkness and demonflesh.

There were so many, Gilthunder found himself thinking, in a startlingly stark moment of clarity as he drew his sword, it was like the sky itself was falling.

They came upon them in a surge of miasma and black fire, bringing with them the smell of blood and brimstone. Though it doesn't stop him from raising his sword, Gilthunder can't help the fear he feels as he runs to fight the tide, Howzer and Silver covering his flanks, Jericho guarding his rear.

 _"Lightning Armor of the Thunder Emperor!"_

 _"Breakthrough!"_

 _"Purge!"_

 _"Enchant,"_ Gilfrost intoned from high above as Jericho prepared her sword. _"Freeze Coffin."_

The air quickly grew thick with the scent of charred demonflesh as the uncountable horde battered themselves against his armor, stretched out as far as he could maintain, less like armor and more like a wall _._ He could feel the impact of their charge even as his lightning protected him from the worst of it and it was all he could do to remain on his feet as he did his best to stop them from trampling over him. Behind him, as planned, Howzer and Silver sniped at demons with quick-hitting attacks, piercing or disintegrating those they could, with Jericho darting in and out to stab at those that threatened to get past his guard, her sword wreathed in ice mist and leaving demons freezing in her wake. For the moment, however barely, their formation held.

 _But for how long,_ Gilthunder thinks grimly even as he grips at Merlin's protective charm with his free hand, thumb hovering over a healing incantation orb he was sure they were going to need.

They weren't stupid. Even with a druid on their side, it was five against at least five _hundred_ and none of them were miracle workers. As much as it burned his pride to admit, they would have retreated if it weren't for the fact that they knew there were nearby settlements in the direction the demons were heading, retreated to call upon whatever reinforcements they could—the Sins themselves, if possible. As it was, all they could really do now was hope to hold them off for long enough for their reinforcements to arrive, as summoned by Merlin's charm, and _hopefully_ , survive until then.

His mouth fills with blood as he strains to maintain his _Lightning Armor,_ ears beginning to ring, but he forces himself to hold it anyway. He looks up to the sky where Gilfrost remained, his staff glowing as he chanted under his breath in preparation for the gambit they'd planned, then briefly to Howzer, Silver, and Jericho, standing their ground by his side, and forces yet more power into his armor, brilliant lightning a beacon through the miasma that filled the night.

No matter what, they had to keep going.

* * *

Through the Captain's eyes, the sight of the Demon King and the Supreme Deity sent terror down Escanor's spine, so much, it was hard to breathe in their presence. They were beings beyond comprehension, ancient creatures that could have reshaped the very world around them as simply as drawing breath. They were, without a doubt, awe-inspiring. Terrifying. World-shaking.

And they were their parents. The Demon King, Meliodas' father. The Supreme Deity, that goddess Elizabeth's mother. Enemies since time immemorial and yet, united in battle by their shared disdain for their children's decisions.

 _They were their parents,_ Escanor thinks, revolted. _Their_ parents.

("Can't say Dad ever really acted like a parent," he hears the Captain remark. He doesn't know which one spoke but it didn't matter. He can hear the tension in his voice, the barely restrained fear. Coming from the Captain, _either_ of him, it was unbelievable. Unacceptable. "It wasn't that surprising.")

Compared to them, even with all the power Escanor has seen them wield from the memories of their time at Stigma, the Captain and Elizabeth seemed not much more than insects under giants' feet and yet he knows they have no choice but to fight.

If they could even call it that.

They breeze through the battle but what he's shown is enough to let him know that, with their enemies ( _parents)_ quite frankly _unfathomable_ strength, they never really stood a chance as they were. It wasn't a defeat. Defeat implied a chance to succeed. They were _annihilated_ beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When next the Captain woke it was to the sight of that Princess Elizabeth bloody and battered, with dead eyes and broken wings. They don't dwell on it and he doesn't ask. Even now, the memory is remembered with such _grief,_ enough that the Captain had wanted to tear out his hearts and just drown in the pain—

They rush through the memory and Escanor understands. He understands completely.

What he doesn't understand is what happens after.

He watches through the Captain's eyes as, years and years later, he meets _Elizabeth,_ all over again. A reincarnation, this one born as a human of a wild tribe, a fierce, beautiful warrior who was still, at heart, both the goddess Elizabeth of the memories he'd seen and the Princess Elizabeth Liones he himself had known. He sees the story in summary, what was, in essence, a repeat of what he'd been shown before and yet completely different in the details. In this lifetime, it's the Captain who reaches out, this Captain who's loved her, lost her, has had to cradle her broken body in his arms, and found her once again. Here, the Captain openly tells her of everything, absolutely _everything_ , of the life they'd had, of who she'd been, and everything she could think to ask. Through his eyes, through his ears, Escanor knows that he's already in love with her. He can feel it in his hearts as if it were his own.

("—she's _Elizabeth,_ " he says simply, in the back of his mind, as if her name alone sufficed as an explanation. "How could I _not?")_

—not once does he ask for her to love him back. He wants her to so very _badly_ but he doesn't expect her to. 'Who could be that lucky?' is a question that lingered, ever-present, in the Captain's recollection of those events. 'How could anyone be that lucky?'

Though he is overjoyed when she falls in love, all on her own (though Escanor can feel a lingering fear not his own, an unspoken one, that her feelings for him were nothing more than projections forced unto her by her previous life—after all, how else could anyone as wonderful as her keep falling in love with someone like him? He doubts anyone, much less someone like _him_ could be so fortunate and—

Not for the first time, his heart aches for his Captain)

He watches as they start to live a new life together, this Elizabeth remembering their past piece by piece. She is curious about every detail and this Captain of the past answers her every question without sparing any detail, open in a way that Escanor finds almost alien but, at the same time, felt fitting all the same.

Then the day comes when Elizabeth remembers their past in full

And he's forced to watch as this Elizabeth dies, impaled.

They were cursed. The Captain. The Princess. They were both cursed.

Elizabeth would reincarnate endlessly and if she ever remembered their past together, if she ever remembered any of her past lives, she would inevitably die in three days.

The Captain would never age and should he die in any way, he would be brought back without his emotions, regressing back into that _thing_ with each death.

 _Their parents had done this to them_ , Escanor thinks, revolted, horrified. _Their_ parents.

Some remnant spark of his noon-day form thinks that he'd rip them both into pieces if he ever got his hands on them, those awful, _disgusting_ wastes of space and, for once, he is in full agreement.

("I never once really thought of the Demon King as my father," the Captain tells him, the words seeming an offhanded whisper in the back of his mind. "He was my lord before he was my father. That's how he's always wanted us to see him."

"I'm so sorry, Captain."

He can sense more than he can see him smile

"Why? It's not _your_ fault.")

There isn't much else he can say and so, instead, he just ensures the Captains would feel his presence, would know he was there for him. For them. Would be there for as long as he needed him, whenever he did.

Neither Meliodas say a word.

But, somehow, he knows that for now it was enough.

* * *

It was only because of experience—no, because of actual knowledge _from the future_ —that Ban was able to avoid the reflected blow, having moved to dodge even before Estarossa had finished saying that familiar phrase. The reflected attack just barely grazes him as it passed, and it's the first time in this entire fight that Estarossa was able to make him bleed, even before his own rough landing sends him stumbling for the first time since the battle began, leaving Estarossa smug in the skies as he restored himself anew, black flames flaring around him to patch up what damage Ban had done.

But Ban doesn't care. His eyes darken as he reached again for his power and snarled another attack:

 _"Assault Hunt!"_

Where the Captain couldn't reflect physical attacks, he remembers, the bastard couldn't reflect magic attacks. Estarossa is forced to dodge in a rolling dive out of the way, Ban's attack cleaving through the clouds as it passed, and in that moment, he was open.

 _"Fox Hunt!"_

Once again, in the sky, Estarossa's eyes bulge as Ban's magic lashes around his throat with crushing force even before he began to pull—

 _"B-Black_ — _"_ he just barely manages to choke out, just before Ban's power could fully crush his throat, too quietly for Ban to hear. _"_ — _Out..._ "

Though Ban doesn't hear Estarossa's invocation, he definitely sees the technique itself, a wave of dark fire engulfing him in a cocoon, blinding him to the outside for several crucial seconds before he could smash through it in a wave of power—just in time for Estarossa's foot to meet his face in a crushing blow from the sky.

It doesn't hurt, not after Purgatory, but the sudden blow catches him off-guard enough that he's sent flying, momentarily unable to react as Estarossa next lunged for his throat, the demon no longer unarmed, Ban suddenly notices, but instead wielding a sword of dark fire in his hand that _pissed him off the more he had to look at it._

He adjusts midflight so that he could land on his feet just before Estarossa's sword met his throat—without piercing. He barely even feels the attack as it glances off his skin and that gives him the opportunity to aim a punch at the smug bastard's face, though he manages to parry the strike with that damned sword, sending him stumbling to one side before he could bash his gods-damned face in.

"Not bad," he praises, though it only makes Ban scowl. The bastard was even grinning, actually _grinning,_ as he swung at his neck with that fucking sword, though, again it only glanced harmlessly off of his skin. "Not bad at all!"

From this close, he has no room to utilize his magic techniques but fuck it, he's going to get that bastard to shut the fuck up even if he has to rip his lungs out through his nose. He aims a swing at his gut—

 _"Full Counter!"_

And again, he's forced to swerve away from his own reflected attack, the only trick of Estarossa's he was sure could actually hurt him, and while he's reeling, Estarossa swoops in close to try and stab him with that fucking sword, even though it hasn't worked even once so far, though he moves to avoid it on reflex, bending away from the blade then turning that motion into a moon kick—

 _"Full Counter!"_

His leg takes the brunt of the reflected attack, sends him flying, and actually really fucking _hurts,_ though his immortality has his bones knitting back together even as he's getting back onto his feet. His rate of healing has only increased in Purgatory and he's fully healed in just a few heartbeats—enough that what he intercepts the bastard's next slice with was his freshly-healed foot, the blade ripping through his shoe but glancing harmlessly off of his skin.

Without hesitation, he steps up using the bastard's sword-hand as a foothold before kicking off of Estarossa's forehead, stomping on the demon mark on his head, sending the demon reeling backward onto the ground just as he lands and launches himself anew—

 _"Full Counter!"_

He swerves to avoid the reflected blow and he _swears,_ his next move was to going to be to snap that fucking sword in half.

Before he could act, however, Estarossa presses the advantage, slamming a punch against Ban's chest with so much force, the ground beneath their feet crumples and craters—though, Ban, completely unhurt, takes it without even staggering, using it instead as an opportunity to grab him by the wrist of his sword-hand and _throw_ him over his shoulder, smashing him against the ground with all the force he could muster, craters haloing around where his head impacted the ground, before doing it again and again and again and—

Estarossa's darkness flares out around him, forcing him to let go as the bastard fell back, staggering, black flames coating his skin and beginning to repair the damage all over again—

Ban grabs him by the hair and plants his fist inside the bastard's gut before that could happen, shocking him out of using his darkness and forcing the air from his lungs, leaving the once-smug fucker bent double, choking as blood and spit flew from his mouth, the hand in his hair the only thing keeping him from flying. Without pause, Ban then smashes his knee into Estarossa's face, over and over and over, to the point he thought he heard his skull beginning to splinter—

 _"Counter Vanish,"_ Estrossa says, just barely managing to intercept Ban's knee with his hand at the eighth strike, turning skull-cracking force into something that couldn't have folded paper. Though bruised and bleeding from the onslaught, he manages a smirk at Ban just as he squeezed his knee and incanted: _"Hellblaze!"_

Black fire exploded all over his body, engulfing Ban in the blaze and beginning to repair his injuries in the same breath as he drew on more and more, so much that for a moment, he appeared a pillar of pure black. His flames were so hot, the ground itself _melted_ , the molten earth rippling at his every step as he drew himself back into his full height, panting as his flames restored him. As for Ban—

"Keh."

Even as he stumbled back from the flames, it was clear that he was unharmed. Even his clothes, made from the hides of the Purgatory-born, had remained undamaged.

"Bastard..."

"What _are_ you?" Estarossa genuinely has to ask, bemused. "You really are better than I thought you'd be, gnat _._ I'll take you seriously _,"_ he adds, smirking, dark flames swirling around him as if the smug fucker seriously thought he could threaten him. " _Rebellion."_

Six new swords of dark fire appeared before him—

"Are you fucking serious?" he spits, raising his fists. "More of that useless shit?"

Now there were seven of those fucking things, just like that time back then when the Captain had—

His eyes burn and he sees red. He stops himself from thinking about it but really. He really, really does...

He really does hate that bastard and his fucking swords.

Without another moment's hesitation, Ban snarls as he lunges for his throat.

* * *

They rush through the next few lifetimes, never once pausing to know more than the basics of each lifetime, and Ban could only barely keep track of them all. Elizabeth, Eliza, Elize, Beth, Betty, Libby, Liza, Lisbet—

("Cap'n...")

—but no matter what, no matter how, he always remembered them all. The lives they'd shared, the Elizabeths of before, he gets to see flashes of each lifetime, some large, epic gestures, others quiet, everyday moments—and each one, utterly precious. Irreplaceable. They don't dwell on any one individual lifetime, instead rushing through generations of Elizabeths in what felt like blinks of an eye. Even then, what little he's allowed to see was already almost too personal for words, each and every one of them remembered with aching detail, each and every incarnation the same as the Princess Elizabeth Liones he knew, the Goddess Elizabeth he'd been shown, all of them the same at heart yet unique in the details and all the more loved for it. He sees it all, feels it all, in painful, exquisite detail.

The moment after a first kiss in literal centuries (not the kiss itself, that was far too personal, though the look in Elisabeth's eyes, shy and sweet and filled with affection, Ban could've argued was almost as personal as the act itself)

A comfortable debate about who was going to wash the dishes (the Captain would argue just for the sake of it but, really, he did anything Elise asked, she had him wrapped around her finger the moment she said 'hello')

Marriage. A wedding. A marriage certificate signed without pomp or grandeur—but for the soaring in his chest, more powerful than anything he'd ever felt. (and, _oh,_ his lifetime with Betty was the first one where they'd actually married and though he'd insisted on a wedding not consecrated under the Supreme Deity, he had felt a light then, far brighter than anything his shit excuse of a mother-in-law could ever hope to conjure, and he'd wondered if that light was paradise)

Her cradled in his arms, an even smaller body cradled in hers (It was a moment of pure perfection, Ban knows, and he feels almost like a voyeur for getting to be there. Even with the Captain's wordless reassurance ringing at the back of his mind, he feels almost dirty being there, intruding on a moment that he knows the Captain had thought was maybe a signal that maybe he could finally hope that—)

And he sees, in quick flashes, how he lost them.

Elisabeth getting crushed to death in an earthquake (it was still so clear, that memory, the sight of the boulders, her skull, the _gray matter_ —)

Falling down a mountain on a brilliantly sunny day, Elise—the Elizabeth who worked in a circus as a _tightrope walker_ —having slipped down a path she'd walked a thousand times before

Even a fucking _apple._ (Betty'd choked to death on a gods-forsaken _apple,_ and she'd died before the Cap'n could even think to stop it and there's a part of Ban that almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, though more than anything, he just wants to _retch_ —)

But he endures it. He wants to close his eyes but he doesn't. He wants to apologize for everything, things he'd said and thought, but—

("You don't need to," he hears him whisper, the voice sounding honestly almost surprised. "I understand.")

Then he watches, one day, through his eyes, as it just became altogether far, _far_ too much. Elisabet, precious, wonderful _Lisbet_ , had choked out her last breath in his arms, her form burned and blackened almost beyond recognition from the volcanic eruption that no one could have expected, that _he_ hadn't expected, that he hadn't _saved her from._ He'd had to bury her with his own two hands in the remnants of what had been their home for those past twenty years.

She hadn't even _remembered_ that time—she'd come close, _so_ close, so many times over the course of that life that they'd had yet still, Elisabet, Lisbet, _Elizabeth,_ had never remembered. And yet, she died in his arms on the one night when she hadn't been close to remembering at all. She had died, burning, just as _everyone_ had on the town that had been their home. The entirety of the town guard, people he'd seen and met and fought with every day since he'd started living there, all gone. Marc, Lisbet's brother during that incarnation and his own good friend, crushed in the rubble and burnt. Old Lady Tabitha, who'd been the one to oversee the little ceremony that they'd counted as a wedding, ashes. Lisbet. Elizabeth, always and forever dead before her time. And even _..._ By everything, every bit of justice, every bit of _goodness_ in the world, the life they'd lived, the little life they'd made _together_...

All burned away

Because of him.

Elizabeth...

Everyone...

Dead

Because of _him._

He watches through his eyes as he stands, steps away from the graves he'd had to dig. He sees the Cap'n's reflection as he passes by the shining sea. He had felt neither rage nor sorrow, as he had when he'd cradled the broken body of the goddess Elizabeth in his arms. He'd felt nothing but a detached _certainty_ , a numb sort of knowing. He is in his shoes as he brings forth his demonic transformation, darkness manifesting into the shape of wings. It's child's play, this time, there's no need to struggle to control it, to drown out its rage and bloodlust, not when it could barely pierce through his absolute _numb._ He watches through his eyes as he flies before the roaring, raging volcano, watching the awful, awestriking sight of what had destroyed his home, his family, his _everything._

Ban realizes what he's planning the moment before he does it

Very simply, almost nonchalantly, he dispels the transformation and lets himself fall, unprotected, right into that volcano's still spitting mouth. He doesn't even flinch as the fires engulf him. He only closes his eyes as he lets himself drown.

Then, darkness.

He's not sure if it's because of the Captain (either of them) or Gowther, but, small mercy though it was, the memory ends in the moment before the pain can register—only, this time, he doesn't immediately fall into another new memory, another new horror. For a moment, he is left alone and adrift, floating through the vast, infinite void he'd only briefly seen before he'd fallen into the first of the memories.

Then, before him, a specter of the Cap'n appeared, whole and uninjured in a pristine Boar Hat uniform, looming over his counterpart, his twin but for his clothes, hands clenched into fists.

("Why did you show them that?" he whispers to himself. "They didn't need to see it."

His eyes were unreadable.

"They didn't need to. But you needed them to."

Ban couldn't stop himself.

"Cap'n..."

Both turn to him

He was quiet. "I couldn't take it anymore," one Meliodas whispers.

"It was too much, back then," the other says, gaze downcast. "Too much."

"... you don't need to explain it. I understand completely." His own hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Though it was faint, he could feel his physical body and the shoulder of the present Cap'n still in his grip. "Cap... Captain, I..."

"You don't need to apologize," the Captain is quick to tell him.

"This isn't your fault," the Cap'n says in agreement.

"I..." he closes his eyes. "Yeah. So..."

Both of them nod.

"There's more to get through. Let's go.")

* * *

Liones was burning.

Even through the unending black snow, Liones was burning, and it was only through the fires of its destruction that Helbram could see the sheer destruction that had ensued ever since the chaos began, the fires the only source of light that could pierce through the thick miasma that had settled over the streets since everything started falling apart and screams started to flood the streets.

He isn't sure if it's been minutes or hours since the three _monsters_ had arrived. All he knows is that screams and smoke had resounded without end since they're arrival, from the unearthly roars of the nightmarish creatures ravaging, to the citizens of Liones at the destruction of their homes, and to the sounds of struggle as the Holy Knights fought desperately to protect their home.

And Helbram. There was nothing he could do. Not a single damned thing.

The demonic centipede skittered across Castle Liones' outer wall, trailing black flames in its wake, blood and guts staining its carapace, a Holy Knight's helm trapped within its maw. Its former owner's head was still inside.

 _"Freezing Field!"_

Ice sheeted across the wall beneath the centipede-like creature's legs, briefly making it scramble to remain in place before the sheer heat of its blazing feet simply melted through the conjured ice, allowing it to stay in place.

Though he was obviously terrified, that didn't stop the Holy Knight responsible for the frost from stepping out into the fray, expression determined despite the bruises already marring his face. His memories of his time commanding the Holy Knights under the possessed Hendrickson's thrall remained hazy, he still remembered their names. The one had stepped out was Gustaf. Behind him, the one in pillbug-like armor was Marmas and the black-haired woman, Guila. All of them were injured. All of them still determined to stand their ground.

"Again! _Again! As one!_ " Gustaf was screaming himself hoarse. " _Freezing Field!"_

 _"Hyper Gravity x30!"_

 _"Brilliant Detonation!"_

The moment the creature's feet began to skid, the magically enhanced gravity took hold, forcing the creature down as it scrambled for purchase, up until the blinding explosions finally forced it off of the wall and down onto the ground, to the ragged cheers of the Holy Knights who saw.

From his vantage point, Helbram could see that the creature was not truly harmed, its carapace not even dented. Already, it was mustering a charge towards the trio of knights who had so surprised it and Helbram, a ghost and not even a particularly solid one, couldn't even cry out a warning that could be heard.

It was then that a sound like a dog's bark magnified a thousand times over ripped through the sounds of cheers. The canine-like demon had heard its ally's cry. A trail of black flames lingered —up until Slader came after fell upon it from high above, whirling his saw-like greatsword towards the monster's neck with a roar that rivaled the demon's. Though Helbram couldn't affect or be affected by anything of the living, he could see Slader's eyes radiating the light of his ability, Overpower, through the slits of his mask.

Yet his sword only bounced off of a tattoo of black flames that suddenly slithered round the canine demon's neck, leaving the monster free to aim a sphere of dark fire straight at Slader as he began to fall through the open air, vulnerable.

 _"Killer Iceberg!"_

"Caught you!"

Only for a shard of ice the size of a great pine to suddenly slam into its open maw just as a diminutive knight flew past to catch Slader over his shoulder. Simon, Helbram recognized. Not one who'd ever been under his command but someone he'd known.

"Slader, are you alright?!" Simon was asking urgently. "We—"

"Look out!" Guila suddenly screamed. Over her shoulder, Gustaf hung, obviously spent. "Snowfall!"

Black snow fell through his immaterial hands as he watched them scramble for cover. The snowfall had only gotten heavier over time as the miasma the demonic monster wrought grew thicker. It was the one, horrific constant in their situation. Most of their casualties had been due to the snowfall, some knights but majority simple non-combatants. Innocents who, as likely as not, had never so much as touched a weapon in all their lives. The sounds of screaming only grew in the blizzard of black snow, strong enough to blow through the ordinary, unprotected homes. Most of the citizenry had been evacuated into shelters. Most. Not all.

It's been years and years by this point but it brings back memories, this sight of Liones under siege. The flames, the screams, it all reminds him of Corand. Of the slaughter there, of all the atrocities he'd committed in his rage. All the things he can never atone for.

His hands clench into fists but there's nothing he can do but watch.

Just... nothing.

There was nothing he could do but hope for the best.

Without intending to, his gaze drifts where the Boar Hat was parked, unharmed as of yet but with Hawk Mama awake and wary. Merlin's protections kept the black snow from encroaching upon the inn, fatal magic sizzling into harmless sparks in a radius around them. In this situation, the shadow of the Boar Hat was used as a makeshift shelter for the wounded, with the Pleiades of the Azure Sky standing guard. So far, the monsters had ignored them. So far.

So far, all things considered, they were _lucky._ So far, the monsters hadn't attacked the Boar Hat where Sins remained vulnerable since the night began. So far, Merlin's protections over the castle and the shelters had held against the assault. So far, the knights were holding against the demonic monsters. Things could have been worse. Though no monster had yet to fall, it wasn't a massacre.

Not yet.

He remembers Corand but there's nothing he can do but hope for the best.

Despite this, he rushes back to the Boar Hat, determined to do his best to find _some_ way to help through the sinking feeling in his gut that their best wasn't going to be enough.

* * *

Gowther has not peeked through either of the Captains' memories since the night had begun. It is not Gowther's task. He was merely to act as a conduit through which the other Sins could access the Captains' memories while the Captains themselves guided their way. He was not instructed to look, not this time, so he does not. His orders were clear. Ever since the incident with Diane, he's been ordered against the use of his powers on ally memories unless ordered by Merlin or the Captain himself.

Still, he cannot help the glimpses he's gotten as the night has progressed. Similarly, he cannot help what he's seen during their practice run, when first Captains tested out the transmission process prior to the official meeting itself. All of it was so... fascinating. They had been pressed for time so he had not asked but there were certainly inquiries he planned to make

Who was this other Gowther, this old man in a wheelchair? He understood the gist as he'd wandered through the Captains' memories, that he was a demon who'd been the Commandment of Selflessness and one of the only demons that Captain had ever truly considered a friend but that didn't explain what seeing him made Gowther... _feel._ There's been feeling in his chest since he'd first caught glimpse of this wheelchair-bound Gowther and it... _hurt._ Based on the literature he's read, that pain was likely emotion but he does not know which one, whether it was love or hatred or something in between.

Gowther has no memory of ever truly feeling before. How was it that a stranger with his name could make him feel so? Was he, Gowther, the same as the Gowther who was this stranger's doll? If so, how was it that he had no memories of such experiences? Why?

Why?

He does not understand.

He does not understand and it pains him does he does not. Actually pains him.

Yet he cannot pursue the topic without defying his orders, which he must not do. As such, he's done nothing so far but what he's asked and kept on relaying the information as he was tasked, even as he plans to make his inquiries after the end of the transmission.

As such, alongside the Captains, he is privy to the moments when one Sin or another comes close to breaking down. He gets to hear the conversations the Captains have with their companions as they ask their questions, gets to see the faces they make as they come to understand more and more of the Captain's past, from the sordid to the sorrowful and everything in between.

There was a saying he often found in his books, one he has always found interesting, if illogical in its unfounded optimism. 'It gets worse before it gets better'.

For the Captain, it seemed it only ever got worse.

* * *

 _"Full Counter!"_

"Tch!"

For the umpteenth fucking time, Ban is forced to fall back under the threat of his own countered attack, arms raised protectively as the bastard followed it up with a thrust from all seven of those damned swords from every direction, one in each hand, the rest flying at him of their own accord—although every single one just bounces harmlessly off of his skin. It wasn't like those fucking things ever once come close to actually hurting him beyond how _infuriating_ he found the sight of them.

"You—"

 _"Blackout,_ " Estarossa practically _sang,_ and the swords around him exploded, turning into an engulfing shell of hellfire aimed to compress him into his skin—

He breaks the shell open from the inside with a roar, the black flames unable to hurt him beyond how _annoying_ he found their stench, launching himself out, fists extended—

 _"Full Counter!"_

This time, he has no time to dodge and so his reflected attack sweeps over him, actually shattering his bones and blasting him back down onto the ground, momentarily winded by his own stupid attack as his immortality started to fix him.

 _"Rebellion."_

But the sight of _another_ seven of those hated fucking swords has Ban launching another attack even before his immortality had him fully healed. No way in hell was he going to lie around when that hated bastard was still standing, still ready, still _alive_

 _"Full Counter!"_

—but Estarossa had acted even before he'd stood, though, this time, he's just barely able to dodge before his countered attack could connect, even if it does leave him, again, on the ground, Estarossa smirking as if he thought he had him cornered.

Fuck him, he really did hate his guts. Really, all that bastard could really hope to do to hurt him was to keep countering Ban's fists, his normal attacks didn't so much as leave a scratch. Ban just had to find a way to stop him from using Full Counter and he would win. After all, Estarossa's attacks were absolutely nothing compared to the Demon King's in Purgatory, Ban was already used to dealing with Full Counter from his spars, and, no matter how _stupid_ it might've sounded, that bastard had no right to use that technique, given what he'd done to—

He sees red.

Estarossa's heel slams hard against the top of his head in an unexpected attack from overhead as the demon aimed to make him _bow._ It wasn't enough to actually hurt Ban but it startled him enough to stun him for a few, crucial moments, as the swords at Estarossa's sides aimed themselves and—

He's seeing red and his head is pounding.

Ignoring the swords, he makes a grab at Estarossa's leg but misses the bastard's ankle by mere micrometers as he launches off into the air, dark wings exploding from his back. Then the swords he ignored exploded, again engulfing him in more black flames that seriously did nothing but annoy him—

 _"Rebellion!"_

—though nowhere near as much as the bastard himself as he conjured more of those fucking swords and charged.

He takes the attack head-on, letting the swords glance harmlessly off of his skin as he himself made a grab for their bastard wielder's throat—though he misses by centimeters as Estarossa pulls back just before he could, wings flaring out to arrest his flight before he launched off anew, using Ban's outstretched hands as a launchpad in a kick that might not have hurt but was seriously fucking _infuriating._

He needs to calm down and he knows it but still. He can't _help_ it, just the sight of those swords made revulsion and horror rise in his throat. He hates the very sight of them with all of his being and, more than anything, he hates the demon wielding them with all his heart.

It was just getting so hard to focus, not when the sight of that bastard wielding those _swords_ filled him with such hatred—

... But it shouldn't be _this_ hard.

Wait a second...

"The fuck?" he mutters. It was... it really was physically getting harder to clench his fists. It was like there was a weight on his shoulders that he only just noticed and—come to think of it, though he hadn't thought to use his magic since the bastard started to close in, trying to access his magic, the ability to snatch and steal, felt—

He bites back a curse as his distraction allows the bastard to relaunch his swords again in another barrage of exploding black blades. They only tickled but still, it galled him that he left himself open like that.

Just, fuck it all, it was getting so hard to focus, to _think,_ he just hated him so much, he—

He hated—

Estarossa, the Commandment of Love.

Oh.

Oh, _fuck._

* * *

 **Next chapter will probably be out by May 31 (this year). All feedback is deeply appreciated and I hope you have a nice day.**

 **EDIT: Something's come up, I'm afraid. Real life's a pain. Guarantee I'll have next chapter out by June 7 but I'll try to get it out as early as I can.**


	11. The Revelations

**Sorry for the delay.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Ban was running.

He didn't want to run away and, no matter what the smug bastard might have thought, he didn't mean to _stay_ away. Hell, he wanted to kill that fucker so much, he could practically feel his blood _boiling_ at the thought of finally just putting an end to the sick fuck who _murdered_ —

Instead, he bites back a curse as his knee suddenly locked up as he ran, nearly sending him stumbling though he quickly forces himself back on his feet, albeit more slowly now with that joint down.

The Commandment of Love was such a fucking _cheat._ He'd been _winning,_ he _knew_ he had. No matter what the bastard threw at him, there'd been nothing he could do that hurt him, _really_ hurt him. For all the bastard acted smug, the only times he made him bleed was by bouncing Ban's own attacks back at him with Full Counter. Not a single one of Estarossa's own attacks left so much as a scratch. Now, though, with the Commandment of Love weighing him down more and more, Ban had no choice but to get away from him—no matter how much that _burned_ his pride to turn his back on the fucker who killed—

"Fuck," he bites out as his other knee locked up and he was forced to stop or else fall flat on his face. "Fucking shit, seriously?!"

He's—he _had_ been faster than Estarossa, he knew that much. He had a hell of a headstart and from what he knew of Estarossa, there was a chance he might've stayed back for long enough to gloat that Ban was currently out of his range. _Love_ —it had to do with proximity and it didn't last forever. It was something they discussed when they were talking about the Commandments with the others during their reunion. Get far enough away from Estarossa's influence and it would start wearing off on its own. The Commandment of Love's curse wasn't permanent, the Captain had assured them. It only lasted around half an hour once you got far enough away from the one bearing it. And unlike most people, he was actually _resistant_ to the Commandment curses after all his time fighting the Demon King in Purgatory. For all he knew, in his case, it might start wearing off in _fifteen_ minutes rather than thirty. Fuck, but he hoped so. Half an hour—considering the fucker could _fly,_ that was more than enough time to get to Liones and he'd be damned if he let that fucker get close to the Captain, not after everything they'd been through.

Was he far enough away, though? He couldn't tell. He couldn't see the bastard... that was a good sign, right? He remembers that during _his_ time, the curse of _Love_ had lingered for a while after Escanor had gone and dragged the fucker out of Liones (and _oh,_ but that memory is a good one and one he hopes he can replicate), enough that he hadn't been able to fight when those people Zeldris had hoodwinked with his _Piety_ and Derieri came in. He'd been able to against Grayroad later, not that he'd been able to realize the significance at the time, but...

He could see a speck of dark in the horizon quickly growing larger and sense a quite frankly _disgusting_ presence coming his way. _Shit._ That fucker, he hated that fucker so much, he could just—

He tries to stand up again but his legs refused to follow. His knees felt like they were stuck. There was a weight on his back, almost enough to crush. He tries to use his arms, at least, to support him, but his elbows locked together and even his fingers felt stiff. _Love_ was meant to take away its victim's power to hurt but for Ban, who used his entire body as a weapon even more than he did his actual weapons and magic power, that meant _Love's_ effect was outright fucking _crippling_.

Shit, what was he supposed to do? From what he knew, there were only two ways to remove a Commandment curse outside of Goddess Clan magic or the Captain's newfound Disobedience Counter Vanish and that was by either defeating the Commandment who inflicted their curse on you or by dying yourself.

Defeating the Commandment who gave them to you—oh, yeah, why the fuck didn't he think of that? Defeating the bearer of the Commandment who inflicted their curse on you, that was definitely doable if it weren't the fact that the curse of the Commandment left him unable to _move._ How the fuck was he supposed to kill someone whose Commandment took away his ability to kill?!

Die? He was a fucking _immortal._ And even then, that would only leave the bastard free to go after the Captains all over again and he would rather be _damned_ to Purgatory alone for all the rest of his immortal life than let the fucker kill the Captain, _either_ of him. Not again. Never again. Never, ever.

Good _fuck,_ he hates that bastard and he hates that he hates him.

Just, what was he supposed to do?

What _could_ he do?

* * *

With everyone exhausted, Gilthunder outright unconscious from the strain, and the _Super Cyclone_ that was their only remaining protection beginning to falter under the weight of the demonic hordes, Jericho genuinely thought that this really was going to be their last stand and it was then that Howzer finally screamed the signal:

"NOW!" he bellowed desperately over the roar of the dome of winds he'd cast to protect them, as well as the roars of the demons teeming around that protective dome, teeth gritted, blood streaming over his eye, the unconscious Gilthunder slung over his shoulder and yet managing to stand tall all the same. _"Gilfrost, go!"_

Gilfrost's eyes flashed open. Despite the burning heat of the miasma surrounding them all, his breath formed mist upon exhale.

"This is for Gil."

Magic swirled around him as he rose higher and higher into the air, his staff shining so brilliantly, for a moment, it was as if the moon had finally pierced through the cloud of miasma that had covered the sky in the demons' wake. His gaze was cold and regal as he looked down on the demonic swarm and finally raised his staff, tracing a pattern in the air that glowed sky-blue.

 _"Freeze Coffin!_ _Power Amplify! POWER AMPLIFY!"_

The doubly amplified ice spell exploded out around them in an insanely powerful shockwave of magic that quickly spread through the entirety of the demons swarming them, freezing magic engulfing every single one of them in layers of frost and rime, stopping the spread of black flames and blasting through the surrounding miasma, leaving an icy mist in the wake of the wave. What had been a swarm of demons that could've razed Britannia and everything they'd sworn to protect quickly transformed into nothing more than an enormous collection of ice statues as far as the eye can see.

They'd done it.

It worked.

They'd won.

They actually did it. They won. A whole fucking army of demons and they won.

Just as Jericho was able to process that thought, Gilfrost fell through open air, spent, his staff dim. Jericho catches him before he could hit the ground, bearing him as gently her own exhaustion could let her handle. He wasn't heavy but she was so tired, she couldn't help but shake even under his surprisingly slight weight.

"Did it work?" Gilfrost asks woozily, face seeming feverish as he looked from her to Silver before finally settling on the unconscious Gilthunder in Howzer's arms. "Did—"

"It did," Jericho pants. "We won. Just... just rest now, I'll... " she staggers as she walks but she manages anyway, moving to grasp one of the incantation orbs on Gilthunder's charm. " _Hyper Recovery."_

Immediately, they were engulfed in a shell of restorative light and Jericho felt her injuries begin to heal, with even her exhaustion abating slightly. Before her eyes, the cut on Howzer's face healed, Gilthunder's breathing evened, and the strain on Silver's face somewhat lightened, even as he flashed her a rueful smile as he finished casting his own healing spell over Gilfrost.

"Good," Howzer pants. "We won. Now, we should go back and—"

All around them suddenly came the sound of cracking ice.

No.

Wait.

All that work, it couldn't have all been for _nothing—_

The ice shatters.

 _"Perfect Cube!"_

The shield was the only thing that saved Jericho from getting devoured. Gilfrost, still pale, still feverish, was holding out his staff, alight once more however dimly it might have seemed in comparison to how it had been, blood trailing from his nose as he staggered out of her arms and onto his feet. As for Jericho, she merely stood frozen, the Perfect Cube's translucent walls allowing her a good look at her would-be attacker. It was a massive red demon, its body wreathed in steam as its black flames rapidly thawed out the ice they'd worked so hard to imprison it in, mouth open in a roar as it began to batter at the barrier's walls.

It didn't even look hurt. All of that time preparing a plan to wipe them all out in one fell swoop and it didn't even hurt them.

"Calm down," Silver says, picking up his sword. "Howzer, Jericho, Gilfrost, we need—"

Whatever it was he thought they needed, Jericho didn't get to hear as masses of rapidly-thawing demons began to roar, fury evident in their voices even as they began to charge at the barrier itself. Though the barrier's walls stood firm, Gilfrost flinched with almost every blow, sweat and blood dripping down his brow. "I..." he pants. "I can't—"

Almost without thinking, Jericho lunged for another of the incantation orbs on Gilthunder's charm, shattering it. Immediately, purplish-gray smoke began to fill the confines of the cube before slowly solidifying. Almost at the same moment, Gilfrost cried out and fell, his Perfect Cube dissipating, allowing the hordes to charge them anew—only to be repelled.

"Good thinking, Jericho." Silver actually manages a smile, even as he began to reimbue his blade with lightning. "Very good thinking."

The incantation orb she'd used contained an Eternal Sealing Spell. They were safe.

"Yeah, you really saved our hides!" Howzer says. "You—"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by yet more roars as the hordes took the new shield's appearance as a challenge and began to charge at it anew. And unlike the Perfect Cube, this shield wavered.

 _For now_ , she couldn't help but think. This kind of magic could stand up to ten tyrant dragons in theory but demons were a threat on an entirely different scale. It wouldn't last, it would only buy them time and only a few minutes at best. Just enough time to breathe. To think. To plan, if they were lucky but—

"W-what do we do now?" Jericho asks, unable to help the fear in her voice as her eyes darted nervously from demon to demon, though she stood firm regardless, sword in her hands once more and held protectively ready. "Should we... try it again?"

"Forget it, it's hopeless!" Gilfrost suddenly snaps. "There's nothing we can do, we should just run."

 _"Gilfrost,"_ Howzer snaps back. "We can't just abandon the—"

"There's nothing we can do!" Gilfrost suddenly screams, shocking them into silence. "I'm... I'm almost out of magic. And it looks like _her_ reinforcements aren't ever going to get here _,"_ he adds, disdainful. "There's no point in fighting anymore. We should just run."

"W-we're _surrounded,"_ she points out. "There's nowhere for us to run!"

"I might... I might still be able to use teleportation magic, it's just..." Gilfrost swallows. "I only have enough power to bring one other person with me..."

"Then take Gilthunder," Silver orders. "As you are, you'll only be a burden. Just, take Gilthunder and escape back to Liones—"

"No!"

It was Gilthunder who'd spoken, finally awake, though still pale as he shakily moved to stand on his own feet, Howzer hastening to support him.

"Gil, _please,"_ Gilfrost immediately began to protest. "Don't—"

"I'd rather die fighting to protect Liones than survive as a coward running," Gilthunder declares through gritted teeth. _"Especially_ not from the Demon Clan _."_

"Gilthunder, _please,_ " and there was a note of desperation in Silver's voice, something Jericho had never heard from him even after all the hours of fighting against the uncountable hoard. "Please, I never wanted you to—"

"I won't let you die." Gilfrost states. In contrast, now, his eyes were clear and resolute. "Never you, Gil."

"Gilfrost?" Howzer says pensively. "What are you—"

In a flash of light and smoke, Gilfrost disappeared and in his place stood—

Jericho blinked.

 _No fucking way..._

The smoke clears. It was real. Jericho's eyes weren't playing tricks on her. Of all the people in the world, she _never_ expected to see—

Vivian's smile was almost rueful as she grabbed Gilthunder's hand, her staff beginning to emanate the tell-tale light of teleportation magic even as Gilthunder reflexively tried to shake off her grip, his expression horrified. "Don't hate me for this, 'kay?"

Teleportation magic enveloped her and Gilthunder in pale gold light—

—When the light surrounding Gilthunder crackled then dispersed, Merlin's protective charm gleaming fiercely where it still dangled from his hand. Jericho got a glimpse of Vivian's expression turning into one of utmost horror before her teleportation magic spirited her away, leaving them to stand on the battlefield still surrounded by enemies on all sides and with one less person fighting on their side.

* * *

Amidst the near all-encompassing blizzard of black snow over Liones, the kingdom no longer burned and the sounds of screams no longer filled the streets. That world of black snow had smothered the flames and deadened even the sound. What had just a scant few hours ago been a bustling kingdom filled with lively people had become a city filled with blackened corpses and charred flesh. The capital had been well and truly ravaged by the demonic monsters. Castle Liones alone remained pristine by virtue of the protections laid upon it. For now.

For now. Only for now.

The Holy Knights of Liones had been well and truly pushed back. To the few citizens who could bear to look out at the carnage from the relative safety of the shelters, the Holy Knights had scattered. Over the course of the ever-darkening night, so much worse than the incident with the 'New Generation' and the demonic Hendricksen not so long ago, the Holy Knights had succeeded in killing only one of the monsters, the dog-like demon felled in an ultimately lucky strike. All the fighting they'd done, all the pain they'd endured since the chaos had begun, and they'd only managed to kill one of the monster rampaging in the streets. Two remained, still strong and only growing stronger, the monstrous centipede that devastated the grounds and the deformed horse-like creature that terrorized the skies.

With only a skeleton crew of Holy Knights available in the absence of their strongest and without any heroes in sight, the fall of the kingdom seemed imminent. Who could fight against such creatures? How could _anyone_ fight against them?

 _"Wrath of the Golden Wind!"_

The demonic horse is swatted out of the sky and into the ground in a blast of great wind so strong, it was smashed flat against the pavement, the black flames that formed its wings and armor blown out, the winds continuing at such force that it threatened to squish the brain exposed by the gristly skull it called its head—

Before it roared a challenge and the air around it combusted in a sphere of black flames, allowing it to reemerge, the dark fire that formed its mane roiling as it began to charge, skeletal legs moving in a gallop through the air even as it formed new dark wings and began to fly at the one who'd struck it.

Its attacker resembled neither knight nor warrior nor great hero of legend. She was what looked like a young girl in a maid's dress, her stance protective as she hovered over the Boar Hat and the castle it rested upon, her expression calm in contrast to the citizens of Liones gawping from the shelters. Though heavy black snow continued to fall, it couldn't seem to touch her. Her amber eyes were fixed on the monster and the monster alone as she held out both arms and once again incanted:

 _"Wrath of the Golden Wind!"_

Her winds blindside the monster and smash it unceremoniously back into the ground then keeps it there. It roars in protest under the weight of her winds but that only makes her clench her teeth, grip her hands into fists, then call upon more winds until its all but crushed under the force of them.

Then more roars fill the air as Holy Knights, battered and bleeding but still standing against all odds, rush out from the Boar Hat's shadow to fall upon the demon, battering it with their weapons and magic while the monster was unable to move, subjecting it to a barrage of explosions, ice, and crushing swings of a saw-like sword until, finally, it died.

It simply died. Before their eyes, the monster that had caused such grief had finally, finally died. After the girl's appearance, it hadn't taken her and the Holy Knights longer than five minutes to kill the monster.

But it wasn't over.

The monster's corpse dissolved into miasma far denser than anything they'd seen yet, causing the knights to scramble out of the way as it began to rise into the sky. In its wake, the air smelled vile. In its wake, it left—

"The snow," Slader calls out to his companions. Then to the girl: "Lady Elaine?"

She nods. "I know."

Before the astonished eyes of the watching populace, Elaine then took a deep breath and rose, arms outstretched, unmindful of the black snow as her winds whipped around her in a protective sphere. The snow couldn't touch her. In fact, it dissolved upon contact with her sphere of winds. In her wake, the air no longer carried the scent of brimstone and carrion but, instead, the faintest whiff of lavender. Her face raised to the skies, she called out:

 _"Wrath of the Zephyr!"_

And her magic clove through the miasma that had covered the skies, slicing through the dark that had fallen over the skies and allowing moonlight to stream over Liones for the first time since the monsters had arrived. As she opened her arms, the miasma began to get swept away, dissipating the deadly snowfall in the process. Sweat began to bead on her brow but she remained there, her expression determined. To the watching populace, the sight of Elaine high in the air, silhouetted by the moon finally made visible only through her efforts, she looked neither like a knight or a warrior.

Instead, she looked like a saint.

Then suddenly, someone screams: "Lady Elaine, get _down!"_

A great gout of black fire suddenly exploded high into the skies around Elaine, as unleashed by the demonic centipede from below with an earsplitting screech that had both knights and civilians cowering and covering their ears, those unlucky enough not to do so in time falling to the ground, bleeding from the ears. With another cry, the demonic centipede raced for the knights while they were still reeling from the noise, black flames blazing in its wake and melting the ground wherever it passed, its maw bloody, burning, and opened wide to devour—

 _"Pursuing Whirlwind!"_

Blades of wind battered the monster from all sides, scything through its already damaged carapace to shear through flesh and bone, before exploding out in bursts of black gore. Almost immediately, black flames flared around the demonic centipede, forcing its wounds closed before remaining there in patches of black that resembled a cross between bandages and armor but though it seemed healed, when it rose, it did so unsteadily. It had been—no, it _was_ hurt.

High above, Elaine remained, still surrounded by her sphere of winds and, having dodged the flames, completely unhurt. Though pale and sweating, she remained there, her amber eyes resolute.

"No matter what," she declares. "You won't get past me!"

* * *

The further along the Sins fell into his— _their_ —memories, the guiltier Meliodas felt. He had known it wouldn't be easy on them—they weren't heartless, unlike _some_ one he knew back home—but seeing it for himself now...

They really were good people. He hadn't truly been able to appreciate the feelings of the Sins of his time when they'd discovered the nature of his and Elizabeth's curse in, not when the _grief_ from Elizabeth's impending demise had driven him to such lengths that he'd genuinely considered becoming—but no. Now, he knows.

The connection went both ways. It wasn't something they'd known beforehand but in guiding them through the Broadcast, he was made to experience their emotions as if they were his own. And he knows it was the same for his counterpart, after all, they'd become so strongly interconnected at the start of the Broadcast that it was outright hard to separate where he began and the past Meliodas ended, almost as if he'd _Empathized_ outright. The Sins, their feelings, they were...

The Sins really were such good people. His friends, they really were amazing people. He... he really didn't deserve them.

That's why, almost more so than the before, he really does not want to show them this.

He knows it wasn't even _necessary,_ strictly speaking, for them to be shown his time in Purgatory beyond Ban finding him and the fights with his father but it felt... correct to do so. It felt right. Even before Meliodas—the Meliodas who he'd been a part of in his time—had died to Estarossa and the Commandments, _he_ had been in Purgatory, as he had ever since the first time he—rather, _Meliodas,_ had died. And being there, being _stuck_ there, with only his Father for company, it had been—

He skims through his time in Purgatory as much as he can but he'd been there for so very _long_ , this becomes the longest part yet. Thousands of years in the mortal realm equated to millions and _millions_ of years in Purgatory and though, initially, he'd been outright unable to feel despair due to his nature as emotions torn from him—Meliodas, the more Meliodas had died (and he truly had tried _everything),_ the closer to despair he could feel and it hurts even now, remembering.

How exactly more of him had ended up there over the years, he shows as well. He doesn't dwell on them, not after Meliodas had so vehemently protested him showing them his— _their_ first death at his hands, but he shows them glimpses of his deaths in the mortal realm. He doesn't want to. But it feels... right.

Meliodas had sought death with such desperation, hoping that it would be better than what his life had been cursed to be. He knows this because he was _with_ him when he makes that decision, with him in the moments before he tears out his hearts from chest intending to die, just as he's there in Purgatory suffering the consequences of his deaths before that. As he is now, complete, he has experienced each death Meliodas has had, the life that preceded it, and the endless stretch of time in Purgatory simultaneous to the both of them, a collection of horrible lives, deaths, and afterlives that could rival kingdoms in terms of suffering and—

He doesn't show them all of his deaths. The scant few he shows is more than enough and, as he is now, he knows _exactly_ how they feel and the weight of their combined horror, grief, and sympathy was all but crushing, even as it soothed him in some small way to know that, despite how truly terrifyingly _painful_ it was for them, not once has any of them pulled away. He knows they want to. He can feel it, that urge—nay, the _desire_ to pull away and just end the Broadcast altogether in the back of their minds, so strong, the urge was almost physical—though they force themselves to endure anyway, simply because—

They really were such amazing people. They really didn't deserve what he's putting them through. He really doesn't deserve them.

The stretch after his last death before Ban's arrival is the worst of it, more so because it was during this endless stretch of time that...

He's ashamed. What happened to him, what he'd become, it was all because he'd just...

Given up.

Retaining yourself in Purgatory wasn't a matter of power levels or magic or anything quite that simple. That _easy._ He's seen souls of every kind over the course of his time in Purgatory, some of great heroes, some of great villains, some of people who might've even been stronger than he but up until that fateful day he'd outlasted them all when it came to resisting the degeneration that Purgatory engendered, to retaining his sense of self, and that was because...

It all went down to _hope._

Purgatory was a place that fostered no hope, that ate away the soul. Just _being_ there was torturous, the air toxic, freezing, and burning all at once, the land without food besides what you could scavenge from the creatures you could kill, and the water acidic and just as likely to melt your throat as it was to quench your thirst. Even unable to feel most sensations without his physical body, it had been _agony_ being there, even before taking into account the sheer _loneliness_ that came with being imprisoned there. For all that it was teeming with creatures of every kind, it was ultimately so _lonely_ there were times he was almost happy to see his father when he came to visit, even if those visits only really meant pain of a different variety.

How could anyone want to be in such a place? How could anyone stand to be there? How could anyone _endure_ living there?

Degenerating meant losing yourself, corrupting your soul, and sentencing yourself to wander without end but it also meant an _escape_ from knowing that you were in Purgatory and that made it better than staying sane for so very many. Until Ban arrived, he'd never seen anyone last longer than a decade before losing themselves completely and as for him, he only managed to endure for as long as he had because for all that Meliodas' deaths in the mortal world brought him closer to the brink, they also provided a reprieve for him in Purgatory. A glimpse of a life outside of the unending hellscape, of _Elizabeth._ A reason to _hope._

After that fateful day when he— _Meliodas_ had used his Assault Mode, he hadn't lasted long. For all the millions of years he'd managed to endure within Purgatory, once complete and without anything to hope for, he degraded. He wandered. He was lost.

Then Ban arrived.

The feelings of the Sins are, as they had been since the Broadcast began, ever-present in the back of his mind. He can feel their shock at the emotion, the _tone,_ so to speak, that these memories carried and has to smile.

His memories in Purgatory before had been nothing but unending misery but after Ban's arrival, they became...

Hopeful.

After all, how could he lose hope anymore? His best friend was by his side and he knew that his friends were waiting on the other side, that _Elizabeth_ was waiting on the other side.

Despite the trials that followed, the continuing challenges that came with being trapped in a hellscape like Purgatory, the struggles that came with his being so much weaker without his body, the decades spent fighting his father even with Wild at their side and even being forced to wander Purgatory for monthsyears _centuries_ on end after their disastrous last bout until their chance meeting with the Purgatory Witch...

He could no longer lose hope. Not truly.

He had Ban by his side. Wild. The Sins and Elizabeth were waiting on the other side. He wasn't alone.

Knowing they were with him, how could he be afraid?

In his friends, the Sins, _Elizabeth,_ he had nothing but faith.

* * *

They were being pushed back against each other and there wasn't anything they could do about it. Nothing. They were exhausted, out of options, surrounded on all sides, and, for all intents and purposes, absolutely _fucked._ There was nothing between the hordes and them, no magical shield spells, no tornados, and certainly no lightning. Gilthunder was down, conscious— _for all the good that did him_ —but without the strength to move. Jericho was bruised and bleeding, her sword bereft of any enchantment. Silver's armor was battered and near-torn, and his sword snapped in half after a blow from a gray demon he'd only barely been able to parry. As for him, Howzer's arms had long given out and his magic had run dry. All he could do now was stand, and even then, only barely. He could no longer fight. Gilfr— _Vivian_ had left them to their fates, left them to stand alone with no reinforcements in sight.

It was hopeless, wasn't it? There was nothing they could do. There was no point in fighting anymore. They should just run.

Unbidden, Vivian's words keep ringing over and over in his head but he forces himself to stay on his feet and stand, as tall as his exhaustion could allow, even if only by using his beloved javelin as a crutch.

It wasn't like he didn't get what she meant. It wasn't like he was stupid enough to think they had a realistic chance at this rate.

But.

All the same, he couldn't give up.

He was a Holy Knight of Liones. He was a _knight._ His eyes were meant to judge the wicked and he could see the wicked awaiting judgment all around him. His mouth was meant to speak the truth and he'd sworn that he would never abandon his duty to the people of Liones and all of Britannia. His sword was meant to crush all evil and even if he could no longer raise his sword, he could let his body be a shield for those who still could.

If he couldn't do all that, he couldn't call himself a knight.

Gilthunder was at his back, without the energy to even stand, much less use his magic power. At his right, Jericho was still on her feet, an apprentice Holy Knight without magic or special ability but fighting more fiercely than even Gilthunder had before he'd fallen. At his left, Silver was doing the same, this druid knight they'd only met a scant few days ago physically shielding them with his body when his broken sword failed to reach.

He wasn't alone. He and Gilthunder, they weren't alone. Even if they could no longer fight, even if he could only barely stand, he refused to give up hope, not when his companions were putting their lives on the line to defend them.

Even if it was hopeless, even if there was nothing they could do, even if there was no point in fighting anymore, he could never run, not when his allies were putting their lives on the line.

If he abandoned them, he would lose the right to call himself _human._

(After all, as a knight, as a human, as someone _worth the protection they were giving,_ the least he could do was not let them die alone.)

Even as he saw death coming his way in an attack he could do nothing to avoid, he refused to back down, refused to do anything less than try and face it and protect Gilthunder from sharing his fate, staring down the massive gray demon that had stepped _over_ the throng of demons his allies were keeping at bay to come at him and standing at least to protect his best friend, even if it meant death

 _Clang!_

The blow was intercepted, not by a sword or a technique or even by hand, but by Silver's helmeted _head,_ the knight standing before them with outstretched arms, his broken sword held out. The blow had rent a huge dent in his helmet but the knight refused to waver, refused to back down. Before Howzer's astonished eyes, his sword's broken blade then glowed with white light as it sliced through the arm of the gray demon that had attacked them, leaving the clawed hand embedded into Silver's helmet.

"I... will _not..."_ Jericho pants, her sword at that gray demon's throat. "Let _anyone die!_ "

Cold air exploded and ice sheeted over the bodies of the demons immediately surrounding them, trapping them in icicles as tall as trees, the ice that had erupted from Jericho's sword nothing like the quick-spreading rime of the Freeze Coffin Enchantment, long since faded in Vivian's absence, but more like gigantic, icy fangs.

Ice that was, without a doubt no one's but Jericho's own.

At the same time, Silver's already damaged helmet finally fell apart, splitting into halves, unveiling flowing silver hair, blue eyes, and a face that was—

 _Familiar_

He stares at him. Then he whips back to stare at Gilthunder behind him, who was gaping from shock.

 _Identical._

"No fucking way," Jericho breathes, staring at the magic that coated her sword. "How... how could I have..."

"You're..." Gilthunder whispers. "My..."

"No matter what," his _favorite uncle Zaratras_ —who by all logic should have been _dead_ —declares, lightning and druid magic setting what remained of his sword alight, the blade a brilliant beacon in the dark of the demons' miasma. It could have just been his imagination but, over the din of battle, Howzer could've sworn he heard the beating of wings. "No matter what happens, I will protect you!"

* * *

Estarossa. He could see him clearly now. He was on his way, flying fast on dark wings, and Ban was still unable to move, joints locked, muscles tight, weight on his shoulders all but crushing. At this rate, the fucker didn't have to do anything to him, he could just go ahead and fly _past_ Ban and he could get to the Captains and, once again, there'd be nothing Ban could do to stop him. Even after everything, after growing strong in Purgatory, after surviving _decades_ of battles against the Demon King himself, Ban still couldn't do anything against this one smug bastard. He still couldn't protect _anyone_ he cared about. And his best friend, the Captains, they would...

Fuck, what was he _supposed_ to do? He was _resistant_ to the Commandments—to the point that, so long as he wasn't too blatant about breaking their conditions near their bearers, he could mostly just shrug off their effects but in this case _,_ it was different. He'd been able to turn his back on Zeldris and retain his freedom despite breaking _Piety_ because his resistance let him shrug it off for long enough to get out of its range. Estarossa, he _had_ to face him if he wanted to make sure he couldn't get to the Captains and since he hated that fucking bastard, facing him meant losing his ability to actually fight. _Move._

What, was he supposed to just stop hating him?

What the fuck kind of question was that?! How could he just stop hating him? How could he _not_ hate that fucking bastard? Even just _thinking_ about it made him hate him all the more. He had _butchered_ the Captain and because of him, the Captain, _his best friend,_ had—

His best friend had...

He stops, all the tension draining from his posture.

The Captain, Estarossa had...

Estarossa, _this_ Estarossa, had...

"You're _mine!"_

Estarossa's whole body was roiling with darkness as he slammed all seven swords into Ban's body, three aimed at his heart, four aimed at his head—and for the first time since their fight began, the attack _connects,_ the empowered blades piercing through Ban in an explosion of gore and dark power, of fire hot enough to melt through bones even before Estarossa grins as his blades dissolve into a darkness that seeped into Ban's veins and spread all throughout his body in a wave of tainted, corruptive force.

"Die."

Mutative magic spreads from the swords embedded in Ban's heart, Ban's eyes, Ban's _brain_ —and without another word, Ban _explodes,_ his body falling apart into chunks of flesh and viscera that Estarossa then set ablaze with a contemptuous twist of his fingers, a pillar of black hellfire exploding from where Ban's remains had been. When it was all over, there was nothing left but ashes, chips of bone, and the clothes he'd worn, now reeking with the scent of scorched, corrupted blood.

"What a pest."

With that, Estarossa left him behind, rising to the skies once more on dark wings as he set off to see his brother. Both of his brother.

Or at least.

He started to.

Because as he began to rise, he heard a sound.

And what he heard was Ban.

Before his eyes, the ashes, bones, and blood that had been all that was left of Ban became _more._ Ashes became flesh that grew over bones that were rapidly growing back into the shape of a human, starting with his grinning skull. Before Estarossa's eyes, Ban was reconstituted completely and _perfectly_ , the restored Ban looking no worse for wear despite it all, and he was _laughing_ as he lay there, so hard he was wheezing for breath, actual tears in his freshly-regenerated eyes.

Estarossa is unnerved.

Then, Ban looks him in the face and _laughs_ even more, loud, hard, and true, even as he's pulling himself back onto his feet and brushing off ashes from the knees of his pants.

"Fuck, I've been so _stupid,"_ he manages in between chuckles, still doubled over as he was. "I'm a fuckin' _dumbass,_ is what I am! Hah! Oh man, I'm such a fuckin' dumbass, I can't believe myself. Hah!"

Still laughing, he lashes out once as if swatting at a fly—

And that one simple move had been enough to rip Estarossa's arm from his shoulder, the severed limb sent flying, leaving a trail of blood arcing in its wake. It happened so quickly, Estarossa hadn't even been able to see him move. All the power he had, all the darkness roiling under his skin and over his flesh, and it had done absolutely nothing to dull that one, barehanded strike.

He was speechless.

"He's alive," Ban says, with relish, with pride, with absolute _gratitude._ "The Captain is _alive._ I don't have any reason to hate _you_ , he's alive and well, both of him are. You, on the other hand..."

His eyes gleam scarlet as he regathers his strength once more and it's _easy_. It's _his_ power. There's nothing to stop him, not anymore. _Love_ can't weigh him down because, unlike the bastard in front of him, he's powered by the real thing and it felt _good._

The air around him _crackles_ from the mere force of his aura as his lips curl up in a sneer.

"Won't be."

* * *

Elizabeth doesn't know how long it's been since they'd gotten the call for reinforcements from Gilthunder and the rest in Istar. There'd been such a rush of activity and chaos since they'd first gotten the signal, she'd barely had time to think since she'd been woken by it what felt like eternities ago, and they'd been rushing to get there ever since, the Ladies Jenna, Zaneli, and Solatido flying on pairs of white wings, the rest of their party following either on foot or on horseback. They were going as fast as they could but Gilthunder and the others—wherever they were, it was far, far away. It's been hard to tell given the dark skies but it could've been hours since the first call for reinforcements had rung out through Istar.

Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be there. Solatido had specifically sent out Lady Jenna and Zaneli to handle it, with their bodyguard Theo and a handful of other druids for support, but after she and Hendrickson had found out that the call for reinforcements had come from Gilthunder, she'd insisted on coming with them and Solatido eventually caved. Now, Solatido herself carried her in her arms, as easily as if she weighed nothing, while Hendrickson rode with the rest.

She spares a glance down at Hendrickson riding with the others down below and has to force herself to breathe. Gilthunder and the others, they were going to be fine. They were going to help them. All of them. They would get there in time.

It's the smell that first tells Elizabeth that they'd arrived, like carrion and brimstone, thick, hot, and putrid. The second thing is the _heat,_ the air turning oppressively, burningly hot the closer they approached. The third thing was the _dark,_ not the same as that of the night but thicker, bleaker. No stars shone in the sky, no moon though she knew it was supposed to be full. The sky was an ominous black, unpierced by light of any kind.

"How disgusting," Solatido mutters. Her wings glowed so much that the dark seemed to recoil from her. "They really are going all out."

They were in a valley, dry and desolate and so thick with the scent of demonic miasma, she almost wanted to choke at the scent of it. In the midst of it all, far below, the grounds were _teeming_ with demons, an enormous mass of them crowding around—

"No," she whispers. "Howzer, Gilthunder, they're—"

"Stay here, Lady Princess," Solatido tells her, setting her down on a shelf of rock before beginning to descend, four wings outstretched. "I'll take care of this."

 _"Purge!"_ She sees as, down below, Hendrickson is the first to charge, his sword glowing with brilliant light, the other druids following not far behind, their weapons similarly alight. "Get back, get back! _Purge! PURGE!"_

Before them, demons scattered, screaming as their infused weapons tore through them one at a time, the druids' charge cutting through the horde, slowly but surely. The screams, the smell, the sounds of demonflesh as it was vaporized, it was all—

 _"Thunder Ray!"_

With a yell, Zaneli fired a bolt of glittering, golden lightning that obliterated three—no, four—no, _five_ demons in one fell swoop, reducing them to naught but ashes, her lightning not quite like Gilthunder's but instead bearing some kind of odd light that felt—

 _"Ark!"_

At Zaneli's side, Jenna held out her staff, brows furrowed in concentration and shells of sparkling light trapped at least five different demons before detonating at a wave of her staff, the demons she'd trapped reduced to ashes, the light of their radiance burning the demons outside of it. She'd never seen such magic before but—

It felt familiar. So familiar.

—No, right now, she had to focus. She had to do something. Gilthunder, Howzer, Jericho, Gilfrost, Silver—they were all still out there in the middle of it all. She had to help them. What could she do?

What she did in the Capital, could she do it again?

She could do it again, right?

Because right now, there's light in her veins, light in her heart, calling for its release with every second that she had to look at the mass of demons down below. There were so many, so _many,_ how long had their companions fought alone against them? How long had they been forced to fight, waiting for them to come? How long had they been fighting by themselves?

Her eye right seemed to burn beneath her fingers and it's all she can do to breathe.

"I'm..." she chokes, tears spilling from her right eye though she didn't know why. "I can..."

"There's no need for you to fight, Lady Elizabeth," she hears Solatido whisper from behind her. She whips back to face her—hadn't she gone down to fight with the rest?—and the bard looks back, her expression serious. "Please don't put yourself at risk. As I told you, let me take care of them."

Solatido raises her arm and—

 _"Spiteful Saint!"_

—the demons, a swarm of armies enough to cover the grounds, were all instantaneously obliterated in a rain of light like a shower of falling stars.

* * *

Estarossa was running.

No, he was _flying,_ taking off as quickly as he can, pumping all the power he had left into a pair of wings to take him as far away from this place as possible.

Because as much as it _burned_ his pride to be forced to flee—

An invisible, inexorably _powerful_ hand grips onto his ankle with force enough to crush through even the darkness covering his skin before swinging him unceremoniously back to the earth with enough force that he craters the ground once again.

"Where you goin'? I was just getting started," the _monster_ was saying, his tone lax. "Don't tell me you've had enough already. Have you~?"

—He doesn't want to _die._

It takes everything he has to twist out of the monster's grip, kicking off with all the strength he could muster, before he once again runs, as fast and far as he can manage, pumping all his strength into his legs, then into his wings. Estarossa is fleeing for his life.

And Ban, as simply and casually as anything, follows after him, keeping up seemingly effortlessly.

Estarossa's beyond desperate.

 _"Black Hound!"_

The enormous, flaming attack smashes against the monster head-on in an explosive burst of black fire that quickly spiraled upwards, forming a whirling cage of black flames—

—But that _monster_ emerges from the smoke and flames, virtually unscathed, the dark fire having splashed harmlessly over his skin as he walked out. Walked out. He only walked out of that attack without a mark to show for it.

Estarossa _flies._

"Kinda tickles," Ban remarks offhandedly as he follows, easily keeping pace even though he was on foot and, to all who saw him, apparently just _jogging._ "Your Dad's was way _worse~"_

The emphasis on the last word was the only warning Estarossa had for the attack that followed, a simple swing of Ban's fist that sent force ripping through the skies. Estarossa just barely manages to twist aside at the last minute to avoid a direct hit from Ban's attack but it still grazes the back of his skull and shears off his wings, sending him plummeting to the earth, his vision fading around the edges from the strike as the ground came rushing for his face and darkness began to swallow his vision.

Then darkness reared up and swallowed him whole.

* * *

Zaratras had been fully prepared to lose his life in the fighting when the demonic army had been obliterated. It had happened in an instant. One moment, he'd been fighting in the full expectation that he was going to die once more, hopefully after taking down the horde with him in a suicide attack, when the decision had been taken out of his hands as the sky lit up with stars that reduced each and every one of the demons attacking them to ashes in the wind. It had been an incredible attack of _miraculous_ power on an entirely different scale than he'd ever seen before and without it... gods, they would have died. Nothing he could have done could have even _hoped_ to match the sheer power of that attack just now and without it...

... It didn't bear thinking about. Not now when they'd been saved.

Despite his best efforts, he'd been the last one standing by the time the attack had come through, Gilthunder, Howzer, Jericho having fallen unconscious not too long before—from shock, or stress, or simple exhaustion, he didn't know. He himself had been injured severely over the course of the battle despite his healing magic. So the sight of the white-robed forms of his former brethren, the druids, sweeping over the ashes of the fallen demons to tend to his companions, to his _son,_ was a welcome one. He waves off the first few to approach him but—

"Don't presume to order me around, _revenant."_

He recognized the voice.

"L-Lord S-Sariel?" he stutters, trying to sit up only to forced down by a small hand pushing at his neck. "O-or is S-Solatido?"

 _"Invigorate,"_ is all he hears at first, and the power of the light that suddenly floods through his veins is almost just as _miraculous_ in its sheer scale as the spell that had so obliterated their attackers, healing him completely with one touch. Even Jenna and Zaneli had never shown such power. It was, undoubtedly, Sariel of the Four Archangels speaking.

Yet what he said next was:

"That's Solatido to you, _revenant."_

"Wh-what...?"

"Call me Solatido _,"_ Sariel orders, not even looking at him as he raised his other hand and began to dissipate what remained of the demonic miasma, purifying the air of the last traces of the demons' presence. "If you at all value the poor excuse of a life you have left, revenant, you will refer to me only as Solatido."

"Gilthunder! Howzer! Jericho! Where are you?!"

That was Princess Elizabeth. He could recognize her voice.

"Call. Me. _Solatido."_

The hand around his neck tightens, small fingers denting the armor around his throat, and he's pulled up roughly to look the Tornado of the Four Archangels in the eye, Sariel's face cold with fury as he looked down on him. From this angle, Zaratras can see himself reflected in the blue of Sariel's eyes, see his own terrified face swimming in their depths.

"Especially in front of _her."_

* * *

The Broadcast came to an end so suddenly, King nearly shouts. Moments ago, he'd been standing before the Purgatory Witch as she'd opened the door for them from within Purgatory's depths, the air of Purgatory simultaneously burning and freezing his throat as he'd said his acceptance, Ban's-the _future_ Ban's hand on his shoulder a silent reassurance before they fell into the swirling gateway of colors.

Now, the morning sun is warm on his face. The air of Liones smells sweet to his nose. The breeze feels cool against his skin.

His hand was locked in a death grip around the future Meliodas' hand and it was hard to let go. His eyes are sore. Tear tracks stain his cheeks and even now, there're new tears welling in his eyes. He isn't alone in this.

For a moment, there is silence as every single one of the Sins present readjust to the end of the experience, being in the now even as they processed the yearsdecadescenturies _eons_ worth of memories they'd just experienced. When this had begun, the moon was still high in the sky. Now, light from the morning sun flooded the room, though even in his muscled morning form, Escanor remained as silent as the rest of them. The room was silent, no one seeming to even breathe. The only sound to be heard came from outside the Boar Hat, that of birdsong in the breeze and the lively noises of the people as the capital of Liones figuratively began to wake. Dawn had come and go while they'd been in the Broadcast. It was a new day.

"S-so," their Meliodas is the one to break the silence, voice uncharacteristically hesitant, smile noticeably forced. After so long spent in the Broadcast, his arm had regrown to the point that he had his wrist again, gruesome though it looked. "There's still Ban's part to go through but how are you guys—"

Without saying a word, acting almost purely on instinct, the King goes forward and grabs both Meliodas into an embrace, gasping for breath, choking down sobs.

"K-King, wha-what are you—"

He isn't alone. Almost immediately, Diane follows after with a sound like a sob, then Escanor with surprising force, then Ban, with equally surprising gentleness, all of them wrapping their arms around the Captains in an embrace that was for his sake as much as it was for theirs, meant to provide comfort just as it was meant to seek it, the gesture a reassurance and a _promise_ all in one.

"Cap'n," Ban says, soft as a breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," King chokes out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so—"

"We're here, Captain, we'll always be—" Escanor was whispering. "C-Captain, I hope you know that—"

"That was so _awful,_ Captain," Diane was sobbing. "You shouldn't have had to—you didn't _deserve_ —"

"I..." Their Captain hesitates from within the embrace. "You guys, you're..."

The future Captain cuts his past self off, pulling him closer, his own eyes closed as quietly, with the smallest, softest smile, he melts into the embrace, his arms going up to twine around them all as if he meant to try and hold them all, as if he couldn't bear to let go. And their Captain, with some hesitation, follows suit, gingerly allowing himself to melt into their hold, eyes slowly going closed as he let himself be held and returned the embrace.

"This was not part of the plan," Gowther comments. "Would you like me to join you?"

Diane doesn't even bother with a reply; she lets out a laugh that was almost a sob as she pulled Gowther into the embrace, knocking his glasses askew.

"Oof."

And for several long moments, they stay there, just holding each other. Just like that. In Boar Hat, under the warm, bright sun high over Liones, Britannia, the mortal world far from Purgatory or the Demon King, the Sins all held each other tight.

There was still much to do, King knew. There were still the future Ban's memories to go through, the preparations they were going to have to do in light of their new knowledge, the Commandments were still out there, and there was so much more they had to do—

But for now, they just stayed there, holding each other in the silence, in the warmth of the new day, in the warmth of an unspoken promise that they would never break.

If it could be like this, even if only for just a few moments, everything could be alright.

* * *

 **It was, I'd like to think, a hell of a ride but we finally got it.**

 **A group hug.**

 **And, y'know, memory lane, Estarossa running, etc etc. But mostly the group hug. Man, this entire story started** **as a cheap excuse to practice writing** **hugs,** **fight scenes, and shenanigans but here we are now, with this monstrosity instead. I initially planned on ending this in 7 chapters but we're, uh, past that, I'd say. I have a strict no-spoiler policy but I will say the ending's gonna be _fun_ _._**

 **I'm pretty sure everyone knew who was going to win the Ban-Estarossa fight. And that was _me._ I mean, who else was it going to be, Studio DEEN? In all seriousness, despite the... obvious, eventual outcome, I hope I made it more interesting than a simple curbstomp.**

 **Anyway, I'm going to try and get back on a schedule for writing. If all goes as planned, I'll either be updating things or uploading oneshots every two weeks. If anyone here's reading Oft-Sprung Surprise, that should be updated on June 21. This ought to be updated by July 5.**

 **In any case, feedback is motivational and I hope you all have a nice day.**

 **As a bonus, have an omake that's more or less canon to this thing**

* * *

Several minutes later, after the future Meliodas reluctantly broke the embrace:

"... hey, uh, is it just me or do I smell something burning?"

"What are you... has that hole always been on my ceiling?"

"Ah, that's my bad. Sorry, Cap'n, Captain, I had to go deal with a pest."

"Oh, Ban! You're just in time, it's your turn to... why are you covered in blood? _"_

"Wha? Oh, yeah, guess I am. Heh, don't worry 'bout that, it isn't mine. And, anyway, I am immortal so s'not it matters."

"What the—" King sputters. _"Whose?!"_

Ban only shrugs, indifferent. "No one important."


End file.
